


I'm dying to be with you

by Whatwashernameagain



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series), Thomas Sanders
Genre: --- ts-storytime big bang fic 2018 submission ---, Angst, But I will spoiler you if you are afraid, Cuddling, Hypochondriac!Roman, It's bad, Logan just give up resisting, M/M, Nurse!Virgil, Patient!Patton, Patton being an adorable flirt, Roman is pining over Virgil, This author knows nothing about medicine, This author uses too many metaphors, doctor!logan, so much fluff and feels, so much pining, warnings in each chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 13:56:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15753087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whatwashernameagain/pseuds/Whatwashernameagain
Summary: Patton likes to playfully claim his heart skips a beat and he feels weak whenever the strict doctor with the awkward kindness and the gentle hands touches him. In reality, his heart has been damaged from the day he was born. But it was still a good, kind heart. It was just a little different from the others, he likes it though! He likes to imagine it is trying to make up for the little time it can give him by letting him feel so many wonderful things and he even made a sweet, dramatic friend at the hospital. Roman made it worth all that trouble his messy little heart puts him through when he hugs him! However, lately, it would not beat quite right, even when the handsome doctor smiles at him.Roman does his best to support of his beloved little friend, as they begin the painful wait for a heart-transplant. He vows to be brave for Patton, even though he is facing his own troubles. All of those pathogens are out to get him, he is sure of it! And what about that rattling in his chest or that itch he cannot seem to get rid of? Why won’t anybody take him seriously around here?! At least the exasperated nurse that always scowls at him is a delight – at least in terms of looks, his bedside manners certainly are quite lacking!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my lovelies! So happy to see you klicked on this fic! If you would like to enjoy the pictures I sometimes added to the story, feel free to read it on my Tumblr: https://whatwashernameagain.tumblr.com/post/177194758647/im-dying-to-be-with-you-masterpost-summary
> 
> I hope you will enjoy reading this work and let me know if you liked it and if you need any additional warnings or have triggers you want to ask about!

Patton liked to think his heart was a good one. That it was trying especially hard to beat for him and be happy when he was. It would flutter so lightly and cheerfully when the sun warmed his nose and drum like an instrument making pretty music when he wanted to dance around his room, keeping up the beat to the song only he could hear, a soft, dreamy, swaying sound, tinkling like rain on a still lake, accompanying him to the magical places of flowers and pink tinted clouds he imagined. Little Patton used to have a lovely, vivid imagination. He would cuddle kittens and puppies in his imaginary world and feel them lick his face, play in the fields and spend time with his made-up fairy friends. His little heart leaped at the memory. He liked to think it was happy for him. 

Sometimes, when he had gone outside and tried to run or climb trees to pick the sweet-smelling spring-flowers as a child, his little heart would beat harder, like the thump of a rabbit’s foot. He liked to imagine it got excited – too excited, and got winded. It just had too many emotions! Just like him. He had named it ‘Thumper’ for a while, like the rabbit from the Disney movie. The image had made him smile and hug his chest, hug his overly-excited little heart so it would feel loved and wanted, which was important. He had feared for it being sad ever since his mother had carefully explained to him that his heart was not like others. That it was damaged, and that he might have to replace it someday. 

Patton had been so sad to hear it. He thought his mother had been as well – not because he had not been able to play as much as the other children, but because he might have to give away his little heart someday. What a terrible thought that was! His small friend who spoke to him so often was excited when he was, and calm and soothing when he got tired enough to go to bed, letting him know it was there with its steady presence, as if it was tapping lightly against his ribcage. It was the best friend he had ever had! So he had hugged it, so it would not be sad.

‘Thumper’ had been too big a name for his little heart, he had decided eventually. It was so bright and excitable, so small and quick, and liked all the things he liked, especially the flowers in his mother’s garden – Patton loved flowers! So he had eventually named it his little hummingbird-heart. 

He was glad he got to keep his little friend for as long as he had, some children had to give theirs away so soon, and even replace it again because it did not grow with them! He found the idea quite tragic, because he imagined that those hearts did not feel at home. Maybe they missed the place they had come from? Where did hearts come from, anyway? He had dreamed up a very nice place for them, like the heart-heaven, where his hummingbird-heart could go eventually.

Now, at the age of 25, Patton knew where the hearts came from. He knew that children had died, but that they had given away their hearts – excitable rabbit’s foot hearts and brave, fierce hearts, strong like waves in the ocean or the big drums that vibrated through your core, and calm ones, like the slow, calm gait of a great cat, it’s heavy paws thumping on solid ground. He wondered if those hearts brought their feelings with them into their new home? Though an adult now, he had never quite shaken the ideas he had formed in his childhood. 

Now, at the age of 25, it was time for Patton to give away his little hummingbird-heart and replace it with a new one, so he supposed he would find out. If he was lucky. Finding a new one was a very hard thing to do, after all. He could understand people not liking the idea of giving their friends away, tried to be kind and understanding towards the millions of people who chose not to become organ donors, hoping they would have a good reason. Even though the wait scared him – him and his heart both. It felt cold when he thought about the possibilities. 

He thought perhaps his heart was starting to beat less reliably because it was scared as well, because it knew he would replace it soon. Maybe that was why it had stopped working and had made him collapse. 

He could not hold it against it. 

Patton had been saved just in time. However, he had become weaker as the wait progressed, had had to come to the hospital more often, had to become even more careful with his sad little friend, so he would not overexert it. Patton had smiled as he had been cautioned. His hummingbird-heart would not fail him before it was too late, he had told the serious doctor kindly. The tall man had looked like he had worried for Patton and had not been amused. He had strictly but patiently explained all of the precautions he needed to take. 

Pat had listened of course – the doctor had looked really concerned after all, or so he liked to think, but his heart would not fail him!

Now, after weeks spent mostly in hospital-rooms, having to give up his dream-job as crisis counselor in an emergency hotline specialized on LGTBQ+ demographics and subjected to the agonized time of suspense, hoping and waiting, he was not so sure anymore for the first time in his life. He hugged his chest hard as fear crept into his mind once again, quickening the thumping behind his ribcage in sympathy. The beeping next to him informed him about how irregular the movement had become. How weak. 

Patton was waiting for a new heart, or to die.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite being stuck in a hospital, Patton will not allow those unfortunate circumstances sour his mood! Not when there is a delightful doctor to flirt with!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Hospitals, contemplation of death, hypochondria

In Patton’s humble opinion, the threat of an imminent death was no reason to be gloomy! Not as long as there were so many pretty things to enjoy! Summer was on its way and the late spring-flowers in the park surrounding the hospital were in full bloom – light pink columbine with their delicate hats, cheerful little daisies in the grass with which he liked to weave flowery necklaces, tulips with their bright cup-like heads, tiny snowdrop anemones with white petals hiding in the shade of the trees he liked to crawl under when he was unwatched, and all of the lovely wildflowers in the field right next to the park. Bright yellow little bird’s-foot flowers was dancing in the wind there while pink Corncockle flowers were complementing them next to large, cloudy swaths of cow parsley, which looked perfectly white, like foam floating over the fields. There were many more, short and tall and lovely in their own way. Patton found them even prettier than the large, perfectly straight tulips or lilies that were especially bred to be flashy and perfect. 

His favorite flower was the Cornflower, which was small and feathery, growing even among many other weeds and still shining so much more brightly and vibrantly than all of them. They were the exact same shade as the eyes of his handsome, serious doctor. 

Patton sighed softly as he contemplated the chestnut tree in front of his window. He thought its large, finger-like leaves were especially lush and green today, still wet and fresh after the rain that had showered it this night. Perhaps he could sneak out and shake some leftover raindrops into his hair? The serious doctor would frown upon hearing this idea, he was sure. 

As they did so often, his thoughts would stray to the man with the cornflower eyes. Envisioning his tall, straight form, his perfectly groomed raven hair, his severe face that often looked tired, yet made Patton’s hummingbird heart feel stronger, like it had all the power in the world. Especially when he recalled how the doctor’s face warmed when he looked at Patton, how he would roll his lovely eyes at his puns, how his lips would curl in an unintentional smile – yes, everything in his chest was working just fine when he thought about doctor Sanders.

Right on cue, a knock sounded at his door. Three times, perfectly even. Patton lit up impossibly bright, sitting up and ruffling his hair. He had been a little lonely in his room after the sweet old lady had been discharged. She had told him so many stories and shared her wonderful cookie recipe with him. He was excited to go home and try it! It would surely be very soon, Patton was an optimist after all! While he was here though, he might as well enjoy the things he could not get at home. 

“Come in!” He called brightly. 

_I know_ , Patton thought to his leaping little heart, _he really does look especially handsome today._

Doctor Sanders was wearing the navy blue vest under his white coat that his excited patient liked best. It hugged his slim waist just right and made him look so elegant – he always was, with his tie and pressed white shirt and tailored trousers in shades of blue and black. His glasses were a little crooked on his nose though, and he was balancing way too many files in his arms, looking a little overworked already. That would not do! Patton had made it his mission to help him relax and made the dutiful man smile at least once a day. He worked so hard, looking after him was really the least he could do!

Doctor Sanders gave him a curt nod and a quick once over as he entered the room, apparently noticing the state of his hair with worry. “Salutation Mr Fairchild.” He greeted, already looking down at Patton’s file attentively. The bubbly patient huffed. 

“Do call me Patton, pretty please!” He argued (again), looking up at the man with his playful, light blue eyes. He knew well how to get his attention after all. And sure enough, he blushed as Patton leaned closer, clasping his hands in front of his chest innocently. 

Clearing his throat, he argued halfheartedly, “Such behavior would be unprofessional, I really should not -” He broke off helplessly, as Patton dropped his head in apparent sadness. 

“Well, alright – Patton.” He conceded. He always did. This little dance was part of their routine. Pat beamed. 

“How are you feeling this morning?” Doctor Sanders asked. He looked down at the thick file in his hands, perhaps to hide his embarrassment? 

“Well, actually, I think I might be coming down with something,” Patton mumbled, running a hand over his forehead, into his intentionally messy, silky honey curls. “I feel like I might be running a little hot.” He breathed, leaning closer. 

The doctor’s brow furrowed. Infections were common in such conditions and not to be trifled with. Before he could call a nurse to take the patients temperature, his free hand was grabbed in a smaller, softer one. He instantly felt a blush climbed his cheeks. 

“Would you have a look, doctor?” Patton asked innocently, pulling the large, elegant hand closer and placing it against his smooth cheek. 

He knew he should not trick the kind man like this, but his hands were so warm and felt so nice, he was powerless to resist. Especially because of the way the severe lines around his mouth would always soften when he was with Patton. 

Putting his files down, he placed both hands on Patton’s pretty face, one on his cheek, the other on his forehead, feeling his temperature carefully. The patient sighed in pleasure, closing his eyes. 

Frowning, doctor Sanders brushed a thumb over a pale forehead and cradled smooth skin and finely shaped bones. “Your face does indeed feel a little heated, Mr. - Patton.” He conceded. 

It did? Must be the pleased blush that was spreading across his freckled nose and cheeks and made his ears redden. 

“I should take your temperature in order to monitor your condition properly.” He muttered, already deep in thought and pulling his hands back. That would not do – Patton felt cold and alone the moment he was released and snatched his hands back quickly, to the surprise of the other. He wanted just a little more! 

“Actually, I think my lymph nodes might be swollen, could you have a look as well? Pleeeease?” He begged prettily, batting his dark lashes at the taller man. Hiding his smile was hard upon spotting the way the attractive man ducked his head and cast his gaze down for a moment, clearly flustered. He was so adorable when he was awkward! Pat felt like squealing at him. The doctor should be used to Patton’s flirting and his attempts to get close, but he still indulged him every time, no matter how silly his reasons were. It gave the smaller man hope. 

He was well aware of how silly his infatuation with this man was, of course. The doctor was – he was – _amazing_! Not only was he handsome in a classical way, with the pale skin of his aristocratic face contrasting so well with tidy, raven hair and with the way his tailored suit and vests complimented his trim waist and long legs. He was also the most intelligent and sweet man Patton had ever met! The first one came as a surprise to no one, of course. The clinic prided itself on the experts it employed, and doctor Sanders was one of their most prestigious employees. However, he seemed to appear rather arrogant and unfeeling to some patients Patton had talked to. Some had even called him cold. Ridiculous! How could they not see the way he went above and beyond for all of his patients, how he treated even the janitors who cleaned the hallways during the night with the same respect as the most esteemed colleague? How he was so attentive to Pat’s favorite nurse’s feelings and insecurities, how he was so kind to Roman and took him seriously when no one else would, no matter how loud and obnoxious he was being? And how he carefully picked every word he spoke to Patton, how he listened to all of his stories and worries alike and indulged him as much as he possibly could, no matter how silly he was being? Even now, he was nothing but lenient and adorable with him in his response!

“A-alright. It would not be prudent to neglect your worries.” He conceded. Patton beamed at him. Yes. This man was anything but cold. He was gentle and protective and perhaps even a little shy. 

He was unashamed in showing his pleasure as the professional hands returned to his face, tilting his chin up this time and allowing gentle fingertips to press along the underside of his jaw. The former counselor shivered slightly at the intimate touch and closed his eyes once again in order to savor the sensation. Warmth flooded his body.

“Curious – your Submental and Submandibular nodes appear to be functioning normally.” The dark haired man mumbled, unintentionally allowing his patient to enjoy the deep baritone of his voice.

Oh! A happy thrill shot through Patton as he made a new discovery. The doctor had callouses across the index and middle finger, perhaps from writing so much with this fancy, dark fountain pen in his chest-pocket? He spotted new and interesting details every day! Patton felt lucky to be in the position he was in, felt like he could spend the rest of his life exploring this man – not only the long, elegant lines of his body, but also his little quirks, his reactions, the things he liked or that made him frown. 

A sigh escaped him, as the cautious touch brushed along his jaw to his ears, where careful thumbs pressed down over the sensitive skin behind them, while large hands cupped his neck in a warm grip, keeping him still – as if he would want to be anywhere else in the world right now. He relaxed further as the man’s fingertips brushed the downy, curling hair at the back of his neck.

“The Retroauricular ones appear unaffected as well.” The doctor muttered, sounding less concerned and more exasperated. 

Though his patient’s little white-lie must have become fairly obvious by now, he allowed his hands to slip further down, cupping the slender throat and feeling for swelling along the sides of Patton’s sensitive neck where his heart made his pulse thunder excitedly under thin skin. A shiver that must have been apparent to the attentive man ghosted over Patton’s skin, making him feel alive and naughty. 

He grinned brightly up at the taller man as he was released, cheerfully chirping “Thank you so much, doctor! I feel so much better already – your treatment is _hands_ down the best!” 

The attractive medic scowled at him mildly but appeared to forgive his antics. Pat did not mind how obvious his flirting was, he had no time to waste to let the other known how he felt! When every day could be your last, you learned what mattered to you. And he liked being playful. 

Just as the older man prepared to undoubtedly list all of the additional, boring precautions he would have to take, the door to his room was flung open dramatically, letting in a metaphorical gust of fresh, rainbow-colored air. 

“Out of the way, peasants - this is an emergency!” The muffled voice of Patton’s favorite friend rang through the room. Roman’s tall form looked dashing in his magenta jacket and white shirt, whose low neckline exposed the tan skin over his collarbones and clung to his well defined upper body. His caramel hair fell in artfully tousled waves and his green eyes shone with passion. Half of his handsome face was also covered in his customary surgical mask. 

“Thank the fairy godmother you are here, doctor Sanders! My condition is _quite_ serious, you _must_ have a look immediately!” He cried, flinging his designer bag on the chair next to the door and pulling his jacket off to uncover delightfully defined arms. His striking eyes showed pretty laugh lines at the corners as his covered lips pulled into a pleased smile upon spotting his friend. 

“Patton, my doe – I am so glad I get to see you in my hour of despair! How are you, darling?” He hesitated in the process of dropping his expensive jacket onto the empty bed. “Are those sheets washed? Who was here before? Where they _infectious_?!” His voice grew higher in the end, as he shuffled away from the bed as if it would attack him with its diseased folds of unassuming, white fabric. 

Patton beamed so hard, his cheeks hurt. “It’s fine, Ro! Just a lovely old lady with a broken hip, she was really sweet! Now come on over and give good old Patton a hug! I’ll make it better!”

Roman huffed tragically. “Not even your hugs can make me feel better, fair Patton! The situation is truly quite hopeless, I’m afraid! WHY are you just standing there, fix me!” He cried at the unfortunate doctor, waving his rubber glove encased hands at himself. He still hurried over to Patton after voicing his complaints though. What sort of man would turn down the most loving embrace on the planet in his final hours?

The lovely little patient immediately wrestled himself free from the covers and wrapped himself around the distraught author. Poor Roman curled into his arms, burrowing in. Patton ran his soft hands through lush curls and hummed tenderly, rubbing his smooth cheek against his friend’s perfect cheekbones. He giggled slightly as he considered how lucky he was to be surrounded by such handsome men! His friend did not have it easy though. His hypochondria made him see danger and illness at every turn and made him fear every little change in his body – he was quite the regular at the hospital. Thankfully since his first, anonymously published book had become such a huge success, he could afford to donate to the hospital and get all the special attention he wanted. Patton suspected his own preferential treatment might have to do with that as well, even though he could not prove it. His friend really was too good to him! He was so proud of Roman for how caring he was and how hard he worked on himself! His condition used to be so much worse, confining him to his sterile flat and leaving him frightened and stressed. All of that therapy had really paid off. Sometimes, Patton suspected he might have additional reasons for coming to the hospital so often. He pressed a kiss to all of that silky, well-groomed hair, just because his friend deserved more kisses and made him feel so protected and safe in his strong arms. Roman always made him feel like only sunshine and happiness existed in his arms. 

A cough made them finally pull apart.

“Would you describe the symptoms, Mr. Prince?” Doctor Sanders requested stiffly. He had pulled a file out of his pile that was even larger than Patton’s. It sported a glittery rainbow sticker Roman had stuck on it defiantly a while ago, claiming its drab exterior was an insult to his fabulous nature. Its edge was scratched off before somebody had apparently given up on removing it. 

“Ugh, _finally_! What do I have to do to get some attention here?! I am suffering _dreadfully_!” Roman cried. Ticking things off on his fingers, he laid out his theories after showing the reddish discoloration on his forearm. “I am sure it is either the Chickenpox, kidney failure or Leukemia. I am too attractive to die, you _must_ do something!”

The serious doctor took a deep breath, internally counting to ten. “I believe I have advised you repeatedly not to enter your symptoms into online search engines. Their results have proven to be unreliable at best.” He chastised as he pulled on rubber gloves in deference to his patient’s fear of infection and grasped the distraught patient’s arm in order to examine it, just as the door was flung open again. 

“It’s a xerosis.” A deep, scathing voice growled darkly. The man who had grumpily voiced his opinion was younger than all of them with his 21 years, and looked very annoyed indeed. Despite the dark circles under his eyes and his fierce glare, he was strikingly pretty with his purple hair, moonlight fair skin, fine-boned limbs and onyx eyes. Roman appeared to think so too, judging by the dreamy sigh that escaped him as his gaze traveled across the thin form. Until he remembered the rude remark thrown at him in such an unqualified manner!

“It is _not_!” He cried, deeply offended. “I am taking exceptional care of my skin, thank you very much!”

“You bathe too much in your fucking milk and rose-petal filled golden bathtub or something. Why are you still listening to this idiot?” The young nurse growled at the older doctor, crossing his arms over his purple scrubs. Their color was slightly mismatched to the darker shade of his hair. Nothing about the girly shade made him look feeble or soft though. 

“Who made you a doctor?! Last time I checked, you were a naive little nurse whose job it is to see to my needs!” Roman exclaimed, flailing his arms grandly and nearly hitting his unsuspecting doctor.

“I don’t need to be one to know you are full of shit, prince prissy!” The young man growled. 

Roman gasped, clasping a hand over his chest dramatically. “ _Prissy_?! I bear the cruelest of fate like the brave prince I am, without complaint -” 

Patton had started giggling helplessly, apparently reminding the author of the fact that he was currently in the process of complaining. Roman spluttered and chose to take a different approach to this rude little troublemaker. 

“Just - be quiet and look pretty!” He ordered, turning up his nose at him. 

The nurse groaned in exasperation. “It’s a xerosis. You are not. _dying_.” He emphasized, stalking closer on light soles like a graceful, grumpy cat.

“It is _not_ and _yes_ I am!” Roman wailed, growing even louder as the doctor finally managed to secure his flailing arm. 

“Actually, nurse River’s assessment is very much feasible.” He uttered. 

The nurse smirked infuriatingly as Roman deflated, before the dramatic man puffed up all of his metaphorical feathers like an angry, tiny bird, getting ready to chirp and protest. Doctor Sanders cut off the commotion before it could begin. 

“Nevertheless, I shall run some test, to ensure your optimal health.” 

“What – Seriously?!” The lithe nurse exclaimed, clearly exasperated. Roman obnoxiously preened at him. 

Well used to the chemistry that made those two fight like cats and dogs, Patton chose to ignore their argument in order to greet his dearest nurse. He held his arms open and made grabby hands at the purple haired man with a pleading expression. “Don’t I get a hug, kiddo?” He asked, making sure to look extra pitiful.

Virgil sighed in exasperation. He could not believe how Patton’s large, innocent eyes had everyone wrapped around his little finger, including himself. He was usually insecure about physical contact with most people, but he could never resist those cuddles. They were so soft and safe. Stepping around the screeching idiot, he tentatively brought his arms up, only to be pulled against the smaller man and get squished in an adorning embrace. 

Patton made sure to run his fingers through the perpetually tangled locks of his younger friend as he felt him melt in his embrace. It made warmth and love uncurl inside of him and made his little heart beat protectively against the thin chest pressed close. It had taken a long time to make the skittish nurse trust him enough to get so close, so he appreciated the shy hug even more. Virgil River reminded him of a stray cat – hissing and shy and defensive, until you managed to gain their trust. His affection was made all the more dear to Patton by being earned with so much coaxing and patience. 

“I’m so happy to see you, kiddo! Are you sleeping enough? You look tired!” He mumbled into soft, purple locks. His roots were growing out – he spotted raven hair.

Trying to cheer him up, and perhaps get a smile out of the serious doctor, he perched his chin on the slender shoulder and joked, “Hey kiddo, when a hospital runs out of maternity nurses, do they have a mid-wife crisis?” 

He started giggling at his joke even before he was done, letting his young friend feel the soft vibrations of his happiness. A startled laugh escaped the nurse before he clasped a hand over his mouth as if he should not be caught laughing. Patton allowed him to hide his face in his neck, cuddling closer. Roman chuckled behind them, whereas doctor Sanders looked bewildered by their hilarity. He appeared to require a moment to sort out the reason for their amusement. A groan showed his dawning understanding. 

“Am I correct to assume the humorist value of your question is derived from the phonetic similarities between the words ‘mid-wife’ and mid-life’? How … entertaining.” The doctor uttered monotonously. He repeatedly, vehemently claimed not to enjoy Patton’s jokes, yet a little smile made his lips curl. Patton melted at the sight, sinking further against the curves and angles of Virgil’s body. 

He wished he could bake some muffins for the poor baby as he ran his hands over his back in a soothing motion. He was so thin under his hands, Patton would feel the nobs of his spine! Despite their rivalry, he was sure Roman would love to take Virgil out to dinner every night and feed him and spoil him properly with gifts and compliments. The gentle giant just did not know what to do with his feelings and thus behaved in a less than calm fashion. Poor thing, so awkward, despite all of his charm. The thought made him smile softly at the author over a slender shoulder. He looked quite lovesick. 

The flamboyant man’s feelings were a badly kept secret since he liked to rant a lot about the unnamed, pretty nurse with the insufferable temper and stunning eyes on his YouTube channel. He did not actually need to maintain it. His novels were applauded by fans and critics for their poetic beauty, their subtle metaphors, their loving descriptions of magical scenery and their heartbreaking and creative plots. Since Roman liked the aura of mystery surrounding him, he kept his name a secret. However, he had never been able to do well without attention. In the years he had mostly spent confined in his flat, reduced to experiencing adventures in the safety of his mind, he had not only written, but also built quite an impressive fan-base for himself online. 

His videos were… not like his books, but rather loud, boisterous and shrill, with lots of glitter and sound-effects, make-up tips and gossip and storytelling, as well as loud and high pitched complaining. Though Virgil found them irritating, Patton adored them. Knowing both sides of the man helped him appreciate his emotional depth. He wondered why his friend had never told the nurse about his books. They were so sensitive and thoughtful, he was sure Virgil would fall hard for this side of the author. Perhaps he was shy of the way his writing exposed him to the world? He had once explained how his words laid him bare, how they made him vulnerable and left him unable to hide behind his make-up and groomed curls. Maybe he feared Virgil would not like his real character? It was such a sad, yet adorable idea. Patton wanted to hug him now – he wanted to pull _both of them_ into a hug at the same time and hold them close, preferably with doctor Sanders wrapping his arms around all of them, safe and sound and together. What a wonderful idea! The quiet man made him feel so secure with his solid presence, he was so steady and calm and so careful with Patton, like a rock in the stormy ocean. 

He pouted as his kiddo extracted himself from him finally, blushing hotly and glaring at Roman to discourage him from commenting. The older man looked like he was itching to take a picture, but feared for the safety of his manicured hands. Virgil was not only as cautious as a stray cat, he had the temper and sharp teeth to match. His fire and fierceness made him even more irresistible to the gentle artist. They were so utterly different, like all of the couples who overcame the greatest odds in this love stories he had adored as a child. How he yearned to tame his fearsome moods and seduce him into his strong arms. Their love would burn brighter than the stars themselves! 

“You need anything, Pat?” The nurse mumbled quietly, hunching his shoulders in embarrassment at how obviously he had liked the cuddling. He was not usually this spunky, but despite his hair rather liked to blend into the background if he could get away with it. The insufferable hypochondriac just brought out the worst in him, he could not help the way his blood boiled when those green eyes settled on him.

“Awww you take such good care of me, kiddo!” The former counselor exclaimed sweetly. “It’s all good, I am as happy as a duck in the park!”

Virgil started to correct him but thought better of it. The confused frown on the doctor’s face entertained the nurse far too much. The poor man would certainly try to look up this figure of speech later that day to add this one to his vocab cards. He tried so hard. The moron. 

“Okay, whatever.” He murmured softly, before turning to leave. He had patients to see to after all. Patients with _real_ illnesses. He made sure to direct a fierce glare at the insufferable idiot. He hated him even more for the way he had to tilt up his chin – did he have to be so _tall_?! And handsome? His broad shoulders and defined arms made his character even more annoying for forcing Virgil to look. He snarled at the man for good measure. His warning did not seem to have the desired effect though. After taking a startled step back, the annoying attention-seeker crossed his arms and pouted visibly, even through the surgical mask. 

“What about me?! Are you just going to leave me here, unattended and neglected?!” He wailed, hunching his shoulders like a child. Virgil hated him so much, he could not help the fire licking his insides hotly whenever the irritating man so much as opened his mouth. He made his body heat with an angry passion he had never known before. He yearned to get his hands on him to wring his tan neck. Especially when his hair fell into his eyes in soft curls, making him so obnoxiously attractive. Unable to help himself, he lashed out. 

“ _Yes_ – whenever you enter a room I cannot wait to leave it, prince prig. You are the bane of my existence!” Virgil snarled, dark eyes flashing. He stuttered to a halt as the taller man’s eyes widened and became bright. Horror spread through him – had he actually injured the moron’s feelings?! He had thought he did not actually listen to anything he said anyway, he was just a little nurse after all. People forgot him the moment he left a room. He could not handle crying people, they were his biggest weakness. Guilt twisted his insides sharply, making his stomach turn. He had not meant - 

“Fine! I don’t need your gloomy presence darkening the brightness of my magnificent character with your – your nasty, depressing, frustratingly _pretty_ face! Leave this humble abode and let me shine my light on my fair Patton in peace, you soul-sucking villain!” He cried, turning his face away and swiping his arm at him as if he were a nasty fly. His jaw was tense under the mask. Virgil felt like his insides were twisting painfully. The dramatic idiot was always so loud and boisterous and over the top, it put him on edge like nails on a chalkboard. It made him forget that he had actual feelings under that ridiculous facade. In his annoyance, he had never considered he could actually hurt him. Twisting his scrubs in nervous, pale hands, he anxiously tried to find a way to make it better. 

“Ahm, o-okay. I’ll – I can leave. Just – do you need anything, like – can I bring you anything? A pillow or - whatever?” He muttered. Even as he spoke, his face started heating. He wished the earth would swallow him whole! The theater nerd was always so eloquent, so educated and confident with the way his deep voice and large presence filled any room he stepped into, and here he was, bumbling and stuttering through his sentences. He felt very small and very insignificant. A pillow?! He was the biggest idiot – he knew he would be revisiting this scene in his mind over and over tonight, hiding under his blanket. Unconsciously, he started twisting his purple bangs in his slender fingers, curling them away from his face as if he were starting an elaborate braid. It was a nervous habit that gave him comfort – comfort he needed badly in his guilty state. 

Roman’s face lit up though. A tenderness washed over his chiseled, half hidden features. His eyes were so warm suddenly. It felt like a punch to the gut to realize the other had already forgiven him. Ashamed of his temper he just could not seem to control, Virgil cast his eyes down, hugging himself. He could already feel his defensive, insecure anger build up and tried hard to suppress it. He could not fight in front of Patton, it would upset him! 

Roman made it easy for him though. “A pillow would be lovely and surely ease my acute suffering.” He promised kindly, putting Virgil at ease by giving him some simple way to make up for his temper. It was awfully nice of him. 

Apparently, he could not seem to help himself though. 

“It will need to be disinfected cotton though, and not only the cover! Hospitals are breeding grounds for deadly diseased, I don’t know how you can stand the vile danger! Did you wash your hands before you touched Patton? I will not contract second-hand infections through your tardiness!” 

Virgil growled, baring his teeth at the insufferable man. This – the familiar heat flooding him – was much easier for him to handle. He stormed outside, vowing to find a pillow he could wrack the man with. Preferably when he had forgotten about his request and he could sneak up on him. The thought of his startled yelping filled him with vicious pleasure. 

Doctor Sanders stood in the center of the room for a long moment, looking lost, before he cleared his throat and inched towards the door. “I shall arrange a number of tests for you, Mr Prince. Mr F- _Patton_ , if you would excuse me.” 

Patton waved cheerfully at him, gigging at his adorable awkwardness. Then, he turned to his friend to help make him more comfortable like he always did. He was trained for it after all!

“Princey, why don’t you show me those cool nails, I’d love to see the new color!” He exclaimed, pointing to the shadow of nail-polish he could spot through the rubber gloves. Roman lightened up, climbing on the bed with his friend and pulling his gloves off, happy to finally have someone to share the things he enjoyed with. His eagerness to talk about something he loved helped him forget his fear. 

“You have an excellent eye for beauty, Patton-mine! This divine shade of red is called ‘drop the gown’ and _perfectly_ compliments the light reflexes of my luxurious hair in the sunlight, don’t you think?” He gushed, enjoying the soft hands on his skin, cupping his larger hands. He missed human contact whenever he was not with Patton.

“It does!” His faithful friend cooed, beaming at him. Roman melted. Patton always made him feel like everything would be okay. He felt like the other understood him, from his fears to his creative mind, which had entertained him in his lonely days. Both of them liked stories with a happy ending after all!

“Now stop holding out on me!” The author cried, flopping down next to his friend, putting them close together on the narrow bed. “What did I miss? Did Mrs Nesbitt’s triplets get another allergy? And did she finally ask that cute Immunologist out? Susan, right? They are simply meant to be!” 

Patton was all too happy to fill him in on the gossip the nurses always shared with him when they drank tea with him. He leaned close to his taller friend, growing soft and pliant as he was pulled close. He loved curling against Roman’s chest! It was so broad and comfortable! They were quite similar, the two of them. Though their temper hardly matched, both had been unable to keep up with the quickly revolving worlds of the other children, Patton because he had been cautioned not to play their quick and exhausting games, and Roman because his mother had feared the common cold and a scrapped knee about as much as Pat’s mother had feared the failure of his little heart. Both had been forced to watch from afar. It had made Roman start writing down the adventures he wished he could have, which was utterly perfect, because Patton loved stores! 

He made sure to share all of the juicy tidbits with his beloved friend, finally ending up on his side facing the large window with the glittering raindrops on lush leaves. Roman had settled in behind him, his large body and strong arms enveloping Patton and keeping him protected from the world. There was no feeling quite like being the little spoon. It was so safe and sheltered, with warmth surrounding him and affection and tender hands playing with his fingers making him drowsy. Roman’s hands were tan, due to his Mexican ancestors somewhere down the line. He had inherited the green eyes and caramel hair from his mother, creating a striking picture. He also worked out a lot at his flat, to get rid of all of that nervous energy. A young man like him should not be cooped up inside all day! Still, Patton liked the way he was built a lot because Roman could pick him up or carry him piggy-back style tirelessly. 

When feeling safe and loved and content, he liked to make plans about what he could look forward to when he was finally out of the hospital, healed and strong and able to do all of the things he had only ever dreamed about! Of course, he shared those plans with his best friend.

“I would love to adopt a puppy! I would name it Mr or Mrs Floofer and we would play outside all day! Oh – and I want to go dancing when I get out of here! Would you teach me?” He gushed excitedly. “I’ve only ever danced around the flat for myself. Then I could go dancing in the rain. Just imagine the sunshine peeking through the clouds and painting rainbows onto the drops crowning doctor Sanders’ dark hair. He would blush adorably, but still hold me close so carefully – I want to make him smile, Roman! I want to twirl around with him and jump in puddles until he laughs. I’ve never heard his laugh.” He mumbled contemplatively, his lips curling with the idea, his chest feeling tight with longing. He wanted good things for the strict, quiet man. He wanted to be the cause of those things. He _wanted_. 

“You really care for him, don’t you? It sounds like he is your awkward knight in white lab-coat.” Roman teased. 

“He is! He really is.” Patton trailed off, picturing the warm gaze, the gentle hands. “He makes me feel so much, makes my heart beat so hard, like wings beating inside my chest. It feels so strong when he touches me, like I could take flight. He makes me feel so light.”

Roman hummed softly, dreamily, and nuzzled his face into honey-colored locks. Gathering his courage, he pulled his mask off to get closer and breathe his friend in.

“What else are you going to do?” He asked softly, reveling in the way Patton squealed as he heard his unmuffled voice. It made it worth the danger to his young and precious life.

“I’ll take you all to an amusement park! I want to try all the rides I could never go to!” 

“An amusement park?” Roman lamented, already missing his mask again at the mere thought. “Where all the people are, trapped like rats in queues, touching everything and coughing on each other?!” 

“Yes!” Patton giggled. “I want to look at all the lights and at the Disney castles and take pictures with you and the figures and hug all of the princesses! I want to buy cotton candy for Virgil!” 

“Virgil would be coming?” Roman asked in a small, cautious voice. 

“Of course! I’m sure he would go on all of the rides with me and to the water parks! And doctor Sanders would come, and he would hold my hand on top of a Ferris wheel. We would go at night, with the lights of the park beneath us and the stars above.” 

Patton trailed off, lost in the image of the man he adored cradling his face – not to check the temperature but to lean in – and kiss him. He laughed at himself, knowing how naive and stupid he was being. What a silly fantasy. He had not even been told his first-name. 

Roman held back a sad sigh. His heart felt heavy. Patton had so many plans, and he included all of them so lovingly. There was so much he had not done yet. His yearning to fulfill his wishes felt like a physical ache in his chest. His eyes burned. 

“Can I ask you something?” Patton innocently interrupted his heavy thoughts. 

“Of course, my sweetest friend! I cannot begrudge you the curiosity since I am truly fascinating!” Patton laughed adorably, blushing slightly at the nickname that made him giddy and happy. 

“What do you feel when you see Virgil?” He finally asked, quieting to hear the answer. 

Roman was silent for a long moment, bringing up a hand to play with his friend’s lightly curling hair, picturing the thin, pale face, the dark eyes – so quick and intelligent, weary and protective, the way he moved so gracefully, the way his half-smile transformed his whole face, like a sunrise that made the world look completely different with its warm, peach and orange light. Patton felt his heartbeat pick up where his back was pressed against the writer’s broad chest, beating strong and passionate. After a long moment, Roman spoke quietly, almost reverently. 

“Like there should be music. Like violins should play for him when he moves. A sweet melody should rise and fall with his twists and turns through the room. He is so graceful when he walks, so light on his feet, as if he was dancing to the song only I can hear. So smart and brave and vulnerable and fierce. It’s like drums should make the air vibrate when he smiles, trumpets, drum-rolls and a choir singing for him, serenading him. And a quite piano in the background. Like there should not be silence, like he is too much – he makes me feel too much, makes my breath catch and my mouth dry and makes me want to sing. That is how I feel when I see him. Like there ought to be music.”

His deep voice trailed off, growing soft at the end. He was lost in thought. The gentle artist knew how he must sounds. Like an infatuated idiot, who had fallen for a pretty face and fancied himself in love with a man years his junior who he did not even know. He knew his feelings were foolish. And yet, the first time he had laid eyes on the fierce nurse, his fate had been sealed. 

*

He had always known Patton was in danger. That he might lose him. He had tried to prepare himself for the possibility, had read up on his condition and tried his best to learn how to aid him, should his heart fail him. He would be his gallant protector, his brave, selfless guard! Many times he had envisioned the moment he would have to step in to save the courageous little life he was cradling in his arms at this very second, how he would push down on his chest to give him life, how he would gather him in his arms, how he would carry him to safety and win him the necessary time to find a heart for him. He had never truly allowed himself to believe in the possibility of failure. Until he had failed. 

He had come to visit his small friend at this very institution, bringing flowers and his radiantly handsome self like the gentleman he was, braving disease and danger with nary a complaint. 

An old couple had waited to be acknowledged by the receptionist, the lady leaning on her dark-skinned husband and lovingly whispering in his ear. Her hair had been pulled back in a strict bun with a tiny bird clip sitting in the middle, making it look like an actual nest. They had been so utterly precious, Roman had yearned to write about them. He had just approached them to offer them his place in the queue, when the man had suddenly doubled over, clutching his chest. His breath had been coming in short, wheezing gasps, his face reddening, his hands shaking. His frail wife had stumbled, threatening to fall without the support of her husband. 

The flowers had been crushed under his heavy soles as he had lunged forward to catch the woman. Her husband had dropped to the floor like a dead weight. He had never been able to forget the sounds. His wheezing breaths, his body hitting the sterile floor, her terrified, desperate screams. 

It was a scene he had practiced in his mind over and over again. He knew what to do. Knew all the motions by heart. Until he didn’t. His mind had been utterly blank. He had stood, uselessly, while the man had been dying at his feet. 

He had only remembered one thought during the ensuing chaos. It could have been Patton. Patton, writhing in pain. Patton, helpless on the floor. Patton, dying right in front of him. Patton, failed by the man that loved him like a brother. His condition had become suddenly, terribly real.

Everything had changed in one, beautiful, inspiring moment. 

“Move!” A dark voice had barked, pushing past other incompetent bystanders and falling to his knees in front of the man. His hands had been utterly sure of everything he had done, his voice loud and clear, giving commands and creating order. He had been fearless and strong like the knights Roman liked to fantasize about. His armor had been spun from purple thread, his shield created by his fierce glare, his sword his unfailing knowledge and confidence. He had dragged this sweet old man back from the brink of death with his sheer tenaciousness. His look had shown that he would not accept any other outcome. Roman had never seen anything like it. And he knew, the nurse had not only saved his patient. 

Had this man actually died before his very eyes, Roman knew he would have given up hope. The cruel demonstration of the end that awaited his ray of sunshine would have broken the sensitive artist’s belief into jagged, sharp edges, leaving him desperately trying to salvage enough strength to put on a show of confidence Patton would see right through. Virgil had saved him. Saved his belief that things would turn out well, that heroes existed. He was Roman’s hero. 

*

Patton was in awe as he listened. A slow, delighted smile dawned on his face. Roman’s words were so beautiful! It was so different from the way he felt for the doctor, who made him feel warm and safe and strong and weak at the same time, and wanting. So much more alive than he had been in such a long time – perhaps he made him feel alive for the first time. Yet it sounded utterly perfect for them. 

“That is so pretty! You should _orchestra_ a meeting and tell him. I am sure you’ll catch the right _tune_! And say _Cello_ from me!” He giggled uncontrollably at his own puns, laughing until his sides hurt and his hummingbird-heart protested. Roman laughed with him but kept a wary eye on the monitor.

“I’ll be sure not to fail to tell him about his many merits in the most poetic language, fret not my lovely friend!” He boasted, tickling Patton with his warm breath at his neck and making him grin and squirm. “However, first I shall take you to a place that is much more magical than a dull amusement park, and that poses much fewer risks of infection, accidents and a gruesome death!”

Pat turned halfway in his embrace, eyes glittering. “And what would that place be?”

“The magical adventure park of the intergalactic kingdom of the fair stardust elves!” He exclaimed. Patton had always adored his stories. They were what had brought them so close, since both of them had had to rely on their fantasy as they had grown up. With a happy sigh, Patton settled in to hear Roman’s colorfully spun tail. It was like he was actually there, as the deep voice whispered in his ear and warm, golden sunlight bathed the bed they were curled up on. Patton closed his eyes and dreamed. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Patton is apparently dealing well with his situation and doing his best to spread cheer and happiness, Logan is handling the situation differently. Thankfully, Virgil is there when he is needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Hospital, anxiety, meltdown, autism, cancer

Logan closed the door behind him as he left the patient’s room. With the absence of golden sunlight streaming through the glass, the artificial light of the sterile, sage colored walls of the corridor looked even colder. He tried to breathe evenly, tried to breathe through the acidic feeling coalescing in his chest, creeping up his esophagus, threatening to make him sick. The sharp smell of disinfectant made the churning in his stomach worse, made his eyes sting with moisture. His next breath came out as a gasp as the illogical feeling of steel-bands closing around his chest impeded his regular breathing pattern. 

He knew it was unprofessional. Knew it was wrong. He was ashamed. He was helpless to stop it. 

He was so afraid for Patton. 

This was not how he usually behaved! His professional manners were supposed to be impeccable. He was never late, never handed in untidy paperwork, never missed a deadline or cause emotional drama. Especially not the latter. He was a tidy man – he needed order to function! Change made him insecure, made him lose his footing. This job allowed him to create the consistency he needed. Illnesses were mere puzzles needing to be solved. Patients part of the equation. He was good at what he did – brilliant even. Something he was very bad at, however, was any kind of social interactions. 

People baffled him. They spoke a language he was not privy to. All of their jokes, the subtle nuances of their expressions, their expectations – he failed to understand them. Due to his own inability to express or even feel the expected emotion, he often offended people with his clinical, unfeeling behavior and came across as cold or even cruel. His inability to follow the simplest social cues had always put him on the outside of any social groups he had come into contact with. His Asperger Autism had seen to it. It was perfectly fine though. The demands of ‘friends’ would have merely distracted him from his studies, hindered his efficiency. His work and the pursuit of intellectual greatness came first. He could live without the warmth of human contact – had done it for many years. The ache of loneliness had dulled to a barely noticeable throbbing behind his ribcage after some years. He was functioning. There was no more he could ask for. 

However a few years ago, catastrophe had struck his orderly life. He remembered the day so clearly. 

His files had been fixed, his pens lined up perfectly in the pocket of his coat, his steps were as steady as the ticking of a metronome. It had enabled him to fall into the comfortably numb mindset he preferred for his work. He remembered thinking his new patient would pose little challenges to him. How wrong he had been. First of all, he had not been in his room. 

Logan had been bewildered. He had not liked the feeling. Virgil had been forced to track him down. The young man was like a bloodhound when it came to retrieving their confused patients. The wayward man had been found down the hall, in the oncology ward for minors. 

Logan clearly remembered the moment he had seen him first. Ready to scold the patient for breaking procedure – seriously, how was an institution like a hospital supposed to function without a deference to the rules – the doctor had barged into the room. And felt his anger drain from him. 

Patton had been curled on the bed closest to the window, _on the bed of another patient_ , and had propped a book up with one hand. The other had been stroking the thinning hair of the child curled up in his lap. Another had sat at his side, and two more at his feet. He had been reading to them. His voice – Logan shamefully recalled it at any moment of the day, whenever he was in need of comfort – it had been so warm and sweet, so soft and caring. The children had been completely enthralled by the story, and by him. And so had Logan. 

He would never admit that he had wasted twelve valuable minutes of his strictly planned day to listen to the lovely sound of this unruly patient as he imitated the different voices in his book. Adopting a suitable severe look had been hard. He thought he had failed to reestablish his professional facade and expression a tad too late – Patton had seen it. His shameful, unprofessional feelings. Though he had scolded him on the way back to his room, where he belonged, the man had smiled at him and skipped down the hall despite his warnings until he had actually tripped and landed in Logan’s arms. It had been disgracefully improper. He had felt very soft. 

During the initial examination, Patton had talked so much, Logan had hardly been able to get a word in. It was quite rude. Did he not know how long he had studied to gain the extensive medical knowledge he had compiled? He would have been wise to listen! And yet, he had never interrupted him. Instead, he had allowed his inspection to slow, to become unnecessarily thorough, just so he could allow the bubbly man to talk about the thing that made him happy. He had learned many things that day, none of which bore any relevance to the things that mattered in his life. Like the fact that Patton loves children’s books because they had the prettiest pictures, and they always ended well. 

For the first time, Logan had found himself personally wishing for things to end well for his patient. He had not been able to shake the feeling since. Patients made him worry now, made him try to comfort them. He was bad at it – did not want to feel compassion, but he could not help himself. Patton’s soft, blue eyes kept popping up in his mind, forcing him to consider how he would feel in their shoes, what he would do in Logan’s place. He admired the sensitive man. The way he interacted with the world around him, the way he saw people and understood them and made them feel good and safe and made them like him – it drew the serious man in like a moth to the light. Patton was the perfect, achingly beautiful and precious opposite of him. 

Where he was severe, hard, unlovable, Patton was kind and soft and tender. He cared for everyone and had the ability shower everyone in light and happiness. His smiles were like sunshine, his pale brown curls as soft as silk, his freckles, his hands, his eyes – he was so beautiful it hurt. Sometimes, Logan felt his breath catch and his heart stutter when he looked at the man, illogical though it was. The idea that he might be interpreting his actions correctly, with Virgil’s help, was preposterous, impossible, a pathetic image his large, defective brain had come up with. And still, the warmth of his soft, freckled skin seemed to have seeped into his hands, into his chest, down where he could not shake it off. 

No matter how impossible, there was evidence to suggest the chance that he was actually cared about. The kind man made up excuses, was searching for his contact, asked to be close. He behaved as if he cared for Logan and – dare he even think it – wanted to be _with_ Logan. It was an unbelievable idea. 

There was no doubt about two facts he could conclude with absolute, cruel, clinical certainty. 

Fact No. one: Patton was too good for him. He was kind and sweet, emotionally competent and liked by everybody. He cared for everyone and had the ability to make people happy. His laugh spread joy even in the most hardened hearts, his pale brown curls were tempting and shining, his freckles, his hands, his _eyes_ – he was so beautiful it hurt. Sometimes, Logan felt his breath catch and his heart stutter when he looked at the man, illogical though it was. Patton was warmth, light, love. He was too good for this world, and most certainly too good for him. 

And fact No. two: He was going to die. 

Logan clenched his jaw hard, trying to breathe through the terror washing over him at the thought, cold and harsh, making bile rise in his throat. Patton would die, and soon. There was _nothing_ he could do about it. His hands were shaking around his files suddenly. He had never felt so helpless. He wished he could pray for a heart to be found, there was so little time left, his condition was deteriorating quickly. But he did not believe in deities, he believed in facts. Facts like the fact that Patton had mere weeks to live, if he was lucky. 

A shuddering sob wrenched itself from his throat, raw and painful. He gasped, jerking in surprise and mortification as his cheek was touched suddenly. 

Virgil. It was Virgil. His only friend stood before him, the exception to every rule he had set up about human contact since he was a teenager, his face etched in worry and compassion. He was ghostly pale in the cold light. He pulled the taller man into his embrace, allowing him to hide his shameful, unprofessional tears against his shoulder. How the tables had turned on them. Logan used to be his protector, and now Virgil had become his rock to hold on to. 

They had met years ago, when Logan had just been out of med school, on the fast track to becoming a successful doctor. His salary had not been much yet, so he had lived in a derelict part of town. Since his shifts habitually kept him at the hospital until late at night, it was not surprising he would get mugged on his way home eventually. 

The mugger had not been what Logan had expected though. He had been more teenager than man, seventeen or eighteen perhaps, thin and pale and clearly out of his depth, hiding under a black hoodie that had seen better days and holding a kitchen knife in trembling hands. Logan remembered clearly how he had looked at him with wide, guilty eyes. 

Despite his cold demeanor, Logan was not entirely without compassion. He had become a doctor because he wanted to use his intelligence to help. It was just better for everyone involved if he suppressed those emotions. They made him less effective and therefore less useful. Being useful was his purpose. He must never forget. 

The young man had clearly been in trouble, frightened and desperate and half-starved like a stray animal. Logan had not believed he would hurt him, but had given him his wallet anyway. A doctor could not ignore the signs of malnutrition after all, so he had hoped the young man would at least eat properly for a while. His mugger had almost been confused by his cooperation and had been considerate enough to take his money and drop his wallet at his feet, so he would not have to replace the cards. He had only whispered one word to him, his voice cracking and rusty. 

“ _Sorry_.”

He had never been able to forget the sound of it, to this day. He held Virgil tighter as he relived the memory. Against all odds, they had met once again months later, as Logan had been called to a precinct to patch up a few criminals who had gotten into a fight. They had apparently ganged up on a young man and beaten him quite bloody. He had stopped in surprise as he had encountered the slim form huddled at a desk, cut up and shivering and so helpless. 

His eyes had widened as he spotted the doctor. He had clearly recognized him. His shoulders had hunched even further, as if he expected a beating. Not knowing how to make him feel less afraid, Logan had been very gentle with him as he had taken care of him in silence. The emotional complexity of the situation had left him insecure. Stressful environments always brought out his defects most clearly. No matter how hard he tried, he always seemed to offend those who needed his comfort.

An uncaring officer had informed him that the teenager was homeless. They expected him to end up in prison by the time he turned twenty. Logan had hated how they had just given up on him. Instead of telling the officers about the mugging, he had coaxed the teen into his old car and taken him home. Virgil had come with him, clearly frightened and expecting the worst. At that point, all it would have taken to get him imprisoned would have been Logan’s testimony after all, so he had not dared to upset the man. 

Logan had been very awkward of course. He had fed Virgil and drawn him a bath to soothe his sore muscles. After dressing him in warm clothes and putting his old ones in the washing machine, he had stiffly ensured him he could sleep on the couch as long as he needed, and went to bed. He had been quite bad at giving comfort back them, Virgil had had to invest a great deal of effort into making him more approachable. 

Their relationship had been off to a rocky start. Logan had not been surprised to find him gone the next day. However, they suddenly tended to run into each other on the street. Logan would always insist on taking him to a diner and feed him, since it was only logical to put the resources he did not need to good use, and finally got him to camp on his couch more often as he slowly gained his trust and realized Logan did not expect any favors in return. The doctor had of course not even imagined he would have come up with the idea and had been appalled as he had understood the teen’s fear. 

Their routine had been broken when Logan had been offered a prestigious job at a private clinic, the one he worked at now. Virgil had become his friend – his only friend, and he loved him dearly, even though he had no idea how to show it. Hoping he would not be upset, he had accepted under the condition that Virgil would be allowed to start an education of his choice. Though bright and intuitive, as an orphan who had escaped violent foster parents early in his youth, he had never been able to learn anything useful. 

The young man had been upset. He had never liked the fact that Logan had to take care of him and reacted very aggressively to any attempts to run his life. He had stormed out in a flurry of curses and had not returned for a solid week. By then, Logan had to make a decision about the job offer and had all but given up hope. Dejectedly, he had fallen asleep on the couch that had become Virgil’s in his mind. 

A quiet rustling had woken him up finally. Virgil had been there, in the kitchen he had always used to cook for them, rummaging around the empty fridge with a sour expression. “You only have an old cucumber and tap water, you know that?” He had growled. 

Logan had not known that. Ever since the death of his parents, he had had trouble prioritizing his self-care. He knew he needed to eat and sleep regularly, he just tended to forget and live off of coffee for days. All of that had changed since he had started feeding Virgil whenever they met, and especially since Virgil had all but moved in and made him eat and sleep. He must have slipped back into old patterns the moment the young man was gone. At least the experience had shown Virgil how important his presence in Logan’s life had become. He had moved with him to a new town, with a new education and a new start, choosing to become a nurse and ruthlessly taking charge of the mess that was Logan’s personal life. The doctor had let him and learned from him, trusting his judgment. Now, years later, they were still roommates, and Virgil still bossed him around, protected him and hugged him when he needed it. Like now. He needed it more than ever. 

Patton. His Patton. 

He had seen cases like his, knew how quickly things could change, how quickly his little life could be over. The certainty of what to expect made acidic fear claw against his throat. It seemed to burn him from the inside, make him brittle and thin and fragile, as if his bones had become hollow from sour fear and agony, like too much pressure would make his tense bones snap and fracture, make the splinters tear holes into his bleeding, agonized heart. He did not know how to survive the loss that was about to come his way. The loss of his light.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton’s day was filled with sunshine and love. Roman was there, ready to play with him and worry needlessly – so why should he do it? It was a day for good things to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Loss of consciousness

Sunlight made Patton shine bright, almost too bright to look at. His smile was radiant and contagious in the best way, inviting everyone to share the intensity of his happiness. His steps were so light and carefree, as if nothing – no fear or worry – weighted him down. There was no dizziness today, no weakness, it was a good day! He was almost floating, no – skipping. He was skipping. 

Exertion of every kind was strictly forbidden. He knew this. Doctor Sanders had made him sit and look at him, had made him bear the focus of those dark, intense eyes that saw so much, that were so piercing and intelligent and seemed to undress him with their singular focus, and made him listen to all of the reasons he could not, _must_ not overexert himself. Patton remembered all of them well. 

He just did not care. 

It was spring. The sun was shining and finally warm enough to wear the thin, flowing shirt Roman had gifted him with that caressed his bare skin like pale blue rose petals and made him look like a pretty little elf, in his friend’s words, and he would not waste his days – perhaps his last days if he listened to all of those worry warts – locked away in a stuffy hospital room. There was too much to be seen, people to meet, things to do! The world was beautiful!

He laughed in delight as a squirrel shot up a tree close to him, quick and playful. Its bushy tail was the cutest thing he had seen since Virgil’s half smile and he felt blessed by the sight of such a shy and adorable animal. The affectionate young man had never stopped dreaming of being a Disney prince who was loved and trusted by the creatures of the forest and who was allowed to cradle them in his careful palms. 

Roman’s protective, nervous presence behind him made him giggle. The larger man worried far too much! Nothing bad happened on sunny days like this one, didn’t he know that? Bad stuff happened on rainy days, silly! He threw an equally sunny smile over his shoulder and skipped on, ignoring the distressed whine. Roman really reminded him of a faithful golden retriever. So cute. He loved him too much. Keeping his smile in place all the time was not always easy. Sometimes it would not sit quite right and he had to exert precious energy to uphold its brightness. But even when it felt as heavy as lead, Patton must not let it slip from his fingers. He feared he might not be able to pick it back up once he lost it. That would not do, he must be there coax out those real smiles from the people that cared about him. And today, it was easy. Today, his smile felt like it belonged. 

Oh yes, there it was - his favorite place in the whole park! It was still early, so no children were around yet. He did not wish to disturb them in their space, even though they quickly tended to accept him as a fellow, playful child. 

“Oh no, Patton-mine, I don’t think that is such a good idea!” Roman lamented as his little friend squealed and bounded towards the colorful playground. He did not want to worry his caring protector, but he had been good for so long, so careful and docile and obedient for the cautious doctor’s sake. Now he wanted to enjoy himself just a little. What else was the point of having a beating, loving heart if he could not take it outside and play a little bit? Something so innocent really couldn’t hurt, he would barely move after all!

Sighing, he felt his muscles relax as he finally settled of the swing, feeling himself escape the cruel pull of gravity and adult expectations alike and being able to kick his legs and feel the delightful, falling sensation of the swing’s motions. His eyes fluttered closed as he gripped the cool chain and gave himself to the dreamlike state the even, flying movements always invited him to. A grateful, happy sound escaped him as he felt gentle hands on his shoulder-blades and familiar warmth against his back. Roman. 

His friend’s hands were warm and large over his skin and supportive as always, as he pushed him up, increasing the strength of the motion without making him invest any effort. Patton squealed in delight as he swung higher. Finally, Roman was losing some of his caution in the face of his friend’s happiness and indulged him – and it was wonderful! The sun was warming his freckled nose, the wind ruffling his hair. He felt light and giddy, like he could fly away on weightless, iridescent hummingbird wings. The creative former councilor enjoyed the bright flashes of sunlight over his closed eyelids and the safety of a caring friend at his back. He allowed his imagination to run free. 

As he lost himself in the pendulum motion of the swing, he dreamed of the scents and sounds of the tropical forest that he could only imagine. He was a little bird with tiny, colorful feathers and a cute, long beak made for drinking sweet nectar from lovely flowers. And Roman was there too! He was a large bird of paradise with feathers so long he could trip over them, bright and beautiful and loud and nervous and utterly impractical. Patton laughed at the image of a feathered, croaking prince beating his delightful wings in a nervous dance. So deep in his dream, he almost felt the sensation of the air beneath his wings, his fingers turning to feathers, detailed and light and numb. 

The next turn of the swing increased the feeling of flying, the feeling of lightness, weightlessness. His whole body felt like it could be blown away, like he was floating from its confines. He did not feel the chain in his hands anymore. The swing descended backwards again, the brightness behind his lids dimming, darkening, turning to blackness, inky, velvet, drowning him in a weightless, noiseless void.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton's collapse has shocked everyone. However, the ensuing conversation serves to bring Roman, the suffering writer, and Virgil, the VERY annoyed nurse, closer together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Collapse, Angst, hypochondria

His heart pounded like heavy, drumming rain, like freezing hail, thundering against the insides of his ribs like a miniature storm, trapped by the confines of his chest, dangerous and angry. 

Patton had been squealing and happy one moment, a dead weight the next. He had barely caught his short friend in suddenly clumsy fingers as he slumped backwards, dropping from the moving swing. Panic and desperation had hit him like a wave of icy water, filling his lungs, his ears, blinding him with salty water. How else could he explain not being able to breathe, the rushing in his ears, the blurring of his sight, the salt on his lips?

He had cradled him against his chest while words pounded the inside of his skull so hard they threatened to crack it open – useless, failure, _dying_. His steps had pounded the same rhythm as he had sprinted towards the clinic in a frantic rush. He did not remember anything else. Just the need to find those competent enough to help his beloved Patton. People like doctor Sanders, like Virgil – not like himself. He could barely breathe, let alone give his friend what he so sorely needed. It was not fair! He was a mess, a useless, complaining nobody who tried to convince others and himself that he deserved – he did not know what. Attention? Admiration? _Love_? But he didn’t, _he didn’t_! Patton did and he was dying in his arms, he was - 

He was breathing. He was sitting in his bed, alive and well, with a heart that was still beating. Virgil had shown up in the lobby like a thin, stressed guardian angel, right as he had crashed a flowerpot and almost sent both him and his precious cargo sprawling – but he hadn’t. Even with his blurred vision, shaking arms and panting, gasping breaths he had held him steadily and shielded him from a world that could do him harm, for all the good it did. It was not the world that was hurting his fair Patton after all. 

While Roman had been dissolving into a mess of terror and tears, the professional nurse had taken stock of the situation and had fixed it with a suddenly calm ease that still had the author reeling. Patton had not been dying, his heart was beating, it was okay. Roman kept repeating the words in his head like a prayer. He had just fainted from low blood pressure, he was unhurt, not even a scratch on him. It was fine. 

It was not fine. 

He hunched his shoulders, shaking and agonized and guilty. He should not have allowed Patton to go that far, should have asked him to go back, should not have encouraged him on the swing, he could have died! They had been so far away from the hospital, from doctors and machines that could save him, how could he have been that reckless, what kind of protector he was! His hands were shaking, not only from residual fear roused by the memory of Patton’s limp body in his arms, so pale and helpless, slumping like a small, dead bird with broken wings, but also from exhaustion. He had run all the way from the other side of the park, cradling the young man against his chest. His limbs felt like jelly. 

A glass of water appeared before him. Virgil was leaning over his quiet, curled form, looking uncharacteristically worried. 

“You okay, dude?” He asked, his voice a strange mixture between rough and gentle. Roman straightened, took the glass in shaky fingers so Virgil would not need to hold it and pulled on his gallant mask. It fit badly. 

“Of course! Worry not, dearest thundercloud. My constitution matters little when my fair Patton is concerned. I am perfectly fine. However, I would be grateful if you would be so kind to check on him once again, just to be safe?” Though he did his best to make his voice light and reassuring, he could not entirely withhold the tremor from his words. Cursing himself, he hoped he would be able to keep his tears at bay, he must not upset Patton! 

“...sure.” The young nurse mumbled, reluctantly turning away after a long moment. 

The man looked utterly exhausted and drained, yet wound way too tightly to relax and recover. Virgil wondered whether he should call doctor Picani to cheer him up, but decided against it. The obnoxious entertainer was quietly, intently focused on their friend, he would not leave his side. Perhaps another check-up would actually help soothe him. He grabbed the pressure cuff again, knowing Patton would not complain at this point. He looked small and contrite. 

“Sorry for making you worry, kiddo.” The gentle patient muttered softly. Virgil had been very silent since he was told about Patton’s collapse by a completely distraught Roman. The nurse gently pushed him into a reclined position and wrapped the inflatable cuff around his arm to take his blood pressure again. His expression was pale and inscrutable. Noticing the guilt on Patton’s face, he appeared to make an effort to smile at him. It was a sad, forced look.

“It’s fine. I get that you want to go outside and do sh- stuff.” He hastily corrected, knowing how much Patton disliked his swearing. His smile turned a bit more real as his patient beamed at him. Wanting to disperse the leftover tension in the narrow shoulders, he attempted to lift the mood with a reference his friend would enjoy. 

“You shall never taste salvation until you have left safety behind to find it, right?” The nurse mumbled. He flinched when Roman’s head shot around so quickly, his neck made an audible, unhappy sound. He looked as pale as a deer caught in the headlights. 

“Shit, man – what is wrong with you?!” Virgil swore despite his best intentions, releasing the pressure cuff and rushing to the bed the idiot had perched himself on. His hands were cool where they wrapped around the man’s neck to feel whether he had managed to mess anything up. His hair was very soft at the base of his neck. He tried hard to ignore just how smooth his naturally tan skin was, or how good he smelled. As far as distractions went, the close contact seemed to be a good one. 

Roman held very still for him upon finally being touched by those pale, slim hands. His green eyes were very wide. He was glad he had ripped his mask off after putting Patton down. He did not want to miss a thing. The author knew his face must look spooked, but he could not help it. His mind was frozen around the words that sounded impossibly lovely falling from those sweet lips in his dark caregiver’s deep voice. The words he was intimately acquainted with. His own words. 

“What did you just say?” He asked softly, almost reverently. A shiver ran down his back as those clever digits felt along the ligaments and muscles of his spine. The hands on him paused – he almost begged them to keep going, and they did, after an awkward moment, pressing down where his neck met his shoulders. Virgil’s pale skin turned pink. 

“It’s just a quote from a book Pat lent me.” He uttered. With a last sweep of his thumbs along the outline of curved vertebrae, he pulled away almost regretfully. He jumped a little as Patton started chirping behind him like an overexcited sparrow, shock entirely forgotten. 

“Oh did you finish it? Did you like it?? You should tell Princy about it, pleeeease! Pretty please!” He reached across the corridor between the beds and pleadingly pawed at Virgil’s scrubs. Though a little bewildered, the nurse didn’t try to resist, he had given up on that endeavor long ago. Instead, he hoped his blush would not become more pronounced as he settled on the bed next to the small man. Pat immediately settled next to him and placed his head on his shoulder. 

“I can do that, I guess.”Virgil muttered reluctantly, racking his brain for where to start. He hated speaking in front of people. The taller man’s gaze was focused on his form with even more intensity than usual. It made him feel self-conscious, but also weirdly warm. At least the moron did not look like we wished to drown himself anymore. 

“It’s set in this post-apocalyptic world, where we destroyed the planet by using up all of the resources and polluting everything and shi- _stuff_. The atmosphere is so dirty that barely any sunlight can get through and the air is poisonous. People need oxygen tanks to breathe. All of the plants they have left are kept underground, in huge bunkers. It’s - actually a really fucking realistic vision.” 

“Language!” Patton complained, settling his sharp little chin onto the thin shoulder as he gazed up at him reproachfully.

“Sorry.” Virgil mumbled, feeling his lips curl as Patton preened and returned his soft cheek to his shoulder, nuzzling close. His downy hair tickled the nurse’s face. 

“Anyway, in this world, they used to have these tree spirits that used to protect the forest. Now there’s only one left, and without a forest, it’s getting real sick. It’s just, like, a tiny one, small enough to fit into your palm and made out of soft roots, with a little, burning center in its chest. It’s like -” He huffed, blushing and wishing he was better with words. The irritating idiot was so well spoken after all, somehow Virgil did not want to embarrass himself in front of him. He was listening in almost reverent silence though. 

“Um, like – like a tiny, burning heart made of pulsing orange embers, I guess. It’s pretty weak, but the little spirit’s a fighter, it doesn’t care for being safe – it wants to go outside and be reckless and stupid.” As he spoke, Virgil carefully brought his arm up and around the narrow shoulders. Sadness mingled with adoration as he spoke. He could see very clearly why Patton loved this story so much. It sounded like it was made just for him. 

“It has a friend down there – an A.I. that’s a little special. It’s kind of an idiot, really.” He laughed as Patton made a soft sound of protest against his side since the A.I was the young patient’s favorite. It helped him forget the attentive green eyes focused so intimately on him. 

“ _He is_. He’s trying real hard, but he’s programmed kind of awkwardly I guess. He doesn’t get emotions, can’t seem to find the right words to say and always goes off sprouting facts instead. Poor moron. So eventually they meet this spunky teenage girl punk, who’s tough, but also caring, and the spirit convinces her to take it outside to find this mythical place it heard of, like a mountain-top or something, where the air is supposed to be clean and it could grow in the sunlight above the sooty clouds. The A.I. isn’t cool with it, but the girl takes them on his epic journey, _Lord of the Rings_ style.” Virgil felt his lips curl at the memory of the flowing descriptions of the story. Remembering the beautiful language made talking less embarrassing. 

“But how did they manage to cross the country?” Patton asked, looking at him like a child, curious and innocent, with large, light blue eyes. Virgil snorted. His friend had read the book, but it fit him well to become absorbed in his badly told tale. 

“They stole an oxygen tank they’d have to refill along the way. The A.I. helped them by hacking into devices on their path and giving awkward, stiff commentary and cautioning them all the time and such. He’s such a worry wart, even though he says he’s not programmed to care. He’s full of shit, if you ask me. What – he is!” Virgil defended his swearing. “Anyway, they put the tiny spirit into a glass jar to protect it – real frigging brilliant, those two.”

Roman felt his throat close up as he remembered how he had written the scenes inside the glass jar. Though ridiculed now, he had chosen the metaphor with great care. Having written the book for Patton and himself, to work through the fear of not only being unable to rely on your body, which was represented by the weak little light inside the spirit, the glass jar and poisonous air represented his own fear of the outside world. Virgil’s voice – so dark and hypnotic, brought those feelings back with a vengeance. Virgil was already describing more of the details that made him feel like the walls were closing in.

“The problem is that the spirit cannot be in contact with the polluted air, any contact would make it sick and kill it, so it’s constantly afraid of the air getting in. At the same time, both have to get from shelter to shelter in time to get new oxygen, so the flame inside it doesn’t suffocate and go out. It’s a race against the time. It’s – kinda scary I guess.” Virgil muttered. He shivered as he remembered the descriptions of the fear of the swirling, darkened fog just outside the glass, of the soot falling from the sky, the fear of the poisons corrupting your body. It had felt like whoever had written it was intimately acquainted with the feeling. 

And Roman was. It was the same way he had felt during his worst times, when his terror of germs and infection had confined him to his sterile flat, his glass jar. It had been his safe haven – and his prison. He had been able to watch the world go by without him, right outside the glass of his window, and had felt like every breath got him closer to suffocation, like his flame – his creativity and passion and his will, would be snuffed out forever. 

His palms were sweaty. He clutched the material of his trousers hard, trying to hide their shaking. A look at Virgil distracted him though. There was something in his lovely, dark eyes his complaints about his struggle had never aroused in the young man, no matter how hard he had tried or how loudly he had voiced them, trying to make Virgil understand. 

_Compassion_. Virgil felt compassion for his literary self. 

Suddenly, Roman wished he were able to express himself in real life like he did in his books. He always became so nervous around people, since he had been locked away by overly cautious parents for most of his life. He knew he was loud and shrill and appeared shallow, but could not help himself. He had all but lost hope of ever tempting Virgil to look at him with anything but irritation, but now – now he looked soft and caring at the memory of something his hands and mind had created. If he were just able to find those words and this confidence when he was actually faced with the fierce, lovely man!

Patton’s soft inquiry broke his concentration as he asked breathlessly, “Did they make it?” The nurse laughed at his cautious tone. It was just like him to get so lost in the story to become emotional over an ending he must already know. 

“No.” He answered. Patton gasped, clasping his hands over his mouth. “They found the mountain and almost made it to the top. But she fell and broke her leg, and cracked the glass jar.” Virgil’s felt mortified as he realized how scratchy his voice sounded. It had been a rough chapter. He would never admit how he had curled up under a blanket and screamed vile insults at the unnamed author with tears streaming down his face. He had gotten attached to the adventurous little spirit, okay?! 

Hugging Pat close, he hurried to continue the story, not wanting to upset the confused, emotional mess in his arms. “So the glass cracked and the girl couldn’t walk anymore and they knew the air would kill them both. The spirit asked to be released from the jar then, so it could taste the air just once. And she set it down, and it lifted its little arms up and felt the murky sunlight on its roots and soot fall onto its little limbs, and its fiery heart stuttered.” The nurse ducked his head and hid his face in Patton’s hair as he felt tears prickling in his eyes at the memory of the emotional scene. Fuck, this was embarrassing! 

“While they were waiting to die, it turned out that the spirit was not like the others – he took the soot and held it close, cause it was warm and it wanted to feel it, and its heart devoured the ash and coal it was made of and flared brighter. A single leaf grew from its head, and then another, and another. All of them breathed in the polluted air and even while it had to shake off the dirt covering the green surface, it used the murky sunlight to grow. It’s roots dug into the earth to feel it for the first time, and it found darkened water trickling down the mountain. Despite the sour taste, it found, like, a sweetness in the water and pulled it in, and more leaves grew. The roots expanded and turned into the branches, the bark hardened and became solid and the tiny spirit started to grow into a tree.” Virgil covertly wiped across his face under the pretense of running his hand through Patton’s honey locks. He had loved that scene. It was so hopeful. Not that he would admit crying over such an emotional and kitschy story. 

“While the little spirit had grown, the oxygen of the girl had run out. She had fallen unconscious.”

“Oh no!” Patton whimpered. Virgil giggled before he could suppress the sound and shook Pat’s shoulders a bit. “How about you finish the story?”

“Oh! Yes, _leaf_ it to me!” He exclaimed joyfully. “The girl woke up again because of course there was a happy ending! She felt dimmed sunlight on her face and heard rustling all around!” Patton made sure to wiggle his fingers and recreate the rustling sounds as if he was telling the story to little children. His voice sounded awed and happy. 

“And guess what? She could breathe! The little tree had grown in a cozy ball all around her, covering her in soft, green leaves which filtered the air and she could breathe and was safe and everybody was happy and the little tree kept growing and spreading and – oh hey Princey! I love you too!” He exclaimed as he was suddenly hugged by a very emotional man. 

Roman had no problem letting his happy tears be seen. He squeezed onto the bed on his friend’s other side and tugged him into his arms, peppering his face with kisses. It was sinking in, finally, that he was alright. He was breathing and his heart was beating. His own was thundering and swelling with love. The fact that Patton would retell the ending was fitting since it was just for him. At this point in the story, it had been hard for him to tell if he was represented in the spirit or the girl, he had simply tried to write something to make Patton understand, to capture what he did for them. Their world was so bleak and dangerous and terrifying, people were unkind and the water was filthy and the air full of contagious sicknesses, but Patton was pure. For a long time, he had felt like he was the only spot of purity in his life. Meeting him had been like finally breathing fresh air. Like being safe and having found something worth being in danger for at the same time. He had wanted to capture the things his friend’s kindness did to the world, how he purified it, made it more loving and better and soft. How even the most miserable circumstances only served to make his heart shine brighter. The worse he felt, the more he tried to make people feel good and safe. The story had encompassed all of his wishes for the kind man. Roman’s yearning for Patton to survive burned no less brightly than the little spirit-heart. He had wanted to give a light to his friend with his writing, so he would always remember that there was hope even in our darkest hours, so he would never give up his inner light. 

 

Virgil leaned back in surprise as his comfortable spot was suddenly turned into a teary cuddle fest. How the fuck could so many emotion fit into one man?! How did he not spontaneously combust or something like that?

For a moment, he observed the taller man cuddle Pat close and openly cry happy tears he unashamedly allowed to fall into his friend’s hair. Virgil looked away. Emotions made him uncomfortable. Though he did it well enough, dealing with crying relatives was definitely the worst part of his job, which was probably why he got along so well with Logan. He must be the only person around who was worse at it than he was – and he relied on Virgil to teach him! They were both doomed. 

Though uncomfortable, the young nurse could not make himself leave or look away for long. His gaze was drawn as if by magic towards the honest, vulnerable display of emotion. He could never show himself like that - shuddered at the mere thought of it, but the more he looked, the more he respected the display of open love and affection and weakness. There was a strength to it, a courage in laying himself bare like this. Unexpected admiration made his cheeks warm. 

Okay, this was _quite_ enough! He was out, it was time to leave. 

Getting up, he hastily straightened his hair just to give his hands something to do and inched towards the door. “I’ll – uh, I’ll get you that book now, okay. I’m done with it anyway and I have patents and actual work to do, so...”

“You can have it, kiddo!” Patton chirped sweetly, patting Virgil’s hand lovingly before he escaped out of reach. 

Virgil stopped in his tracks, shaking his head at him in exasperation. “I cannot take it, Pat! It’s a signed copy.” He was ashamed to admit that he had squealed like a fanchild upon spotting the curved calligraphy in the front of the novel with the loopy curve of the ‘e’ and the playful twist of the ‘n’. 

_‘May your inner light ever shine as brightly as your hope, dear Patton.’_

It had said, right under the printed words, 

_‘dedicated to my fair hummingbird’._

For a moment, he had entertained the ludicrous thought that Patton might know this ridiculously talented, famous writer personally, until he had looked him up online. The author signed books with flowery, personal phrases upon request over the mail, as he had found out during his research (/stalking) on the internet, and Patton had apparently managed to have one signed for himself. Very cool. Honestly, he was a little jealous. 

He startled as Roman spoke up cautiously. The nurse had almost forgotten about him. His voice was very soft. “So… did you like it?” 

Virgil awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. He was always nervous about revealing things he was passionate about, since he expected people to ridicule him for it, so he usually played down how much they meant to him. 

“It was fine, I guess. If you like that sort of post-apocalyptic fantasy stuff or whatever.” He mumbled, casting his gaze down. In his shyness, he missed the way Roman’s entire, handsome face brightened. 

Virgil had enjoyed his writing! This was all he had ever wanted from his work, everything he had hoped for while he had been too shy to reveal himself. He felt like the strongest man on earth - mighty and invincible! But he was still itching to wash his hands now that the immediate danger had passed. Who knew what he had come into contact with on that playground, and where was his mask?!

Virgil meanwhile had spotted the paperwork he had flung onto the table as he had entered with the distraught author in tow. Part of it was for him to sign – information about the unnecessary tests he had demanded to feed his delusions. Virgil would be glad not to have to spend anymore time looking at his stupidly handsome face than strictly necessary, so he chose to deal with it right away. 

This whole thing – the tests Logan had ordered as well as the fact that he listened to this man at all – it had made the nurse wonder. He suspected he let the complaining hypochondriac stay around so often for very illogical reasons, not that he would say it out loud, he valued their friendship after all and the not so logical moron could only handle so many openly addressed feelings. Virgil thought his friend’s emotionless shell had actually suffered from cracks and fissures since Patton had started flirting with the doctor and somehow, the insufferable patient had wormed his way under his defenses and grown on the man in the process. Like a weed. Yes, unbelievable as it sounded, he was sure Logan cared and liked having him around, and not only because he was good for Patton. Though unqualified for such psychological maladies, he wanted to help him. Such a sap. Warmth spread inside his chest. God help him, but he wanted to hug Logan now. 

Extricating a bunch of loose papers, he thrust them into the tall artist’s face. “You need to sign these.” 

Roman huffed and took them gingerly between two fingers. He really ought to be treated with more consideration! After all – he did not manage to hold back his smug, sweet smile – Virgil was a fan. When he wasn’t looking, Roman stuck a unicorn sticker to one of the files to fix up his paperwork. He was feeling glittery! (And perhaps he could extract one of those adorable, exasperated smiles from the nurse, or a despairing sigh from his favorite doctor). In his elated mood, he signed the papers with a flourish, agreeing to all of the tests doctor Sanders had chosen for him. The man may be a little too grumpy, but he was still Roman’s favorite by far, and not only because he made Pat smile. The dork was adorable and soft under his hard shell, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. Roman wanted to get to know him better, outside of the hospital. He wished they could all leave after their shift, healed and well and do all of the things Patton had planned. He and the uptight doctor could be a tag-team of unlikely friends having adventures and protecting their damsels in distress. What a thought. One he better not voice, considering Virgil was likely to hit him hard if he knew how Roman was imagining his lovely body draped into the fine fabric of a silken princess dress. 

He was shaken from his delightful daydream by the scolding source of his affectionate thoughts. Snatching the papers, he leafed through them to see if everything was signed. A little chuckle escaped him as he noticed the glittering sticker of a cute, chubby unicorn. He felt warm under his scrubs.

Everything appeared to be in order, so he waved at Patton over his shoulder as he headed for the door as he was checking the signature on the last page – and slammed into the door-frame.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As poor Virgil tries to make sense of his new-found realization, more facets of Roman’s personality and the way he treats him become evident to him. Clearly, he needs someone to talk to about his conflicted feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Foster care system, past sexual harassment/manipulation

Virgil hissed violently at the doctor who dared disturb him in his hiding place. The man gasped and slammed the door shut, shrouding the defensive nurse in welcome darkness. 

Whenever the young man felt overwhelmed with the world – the suffering of the patients, the arrogance of the doctors or the feeling of not being able to do enough – he huddled into his corner of this barely used supply cupboard, a small room filled with metal shelves and dark, cool, quiet air.  
Right now, he was plenty overwhelmed. His fingers were shaking a little as they flew over the keys of his only source of light – his laptop perched on his crossed legs. 

Papers were scattered around his huddled form, making him look like some deranged conspiracy theorist planning a wall filled with newspaper scraps. He actually yearned for some red string. It was no wonder the doctor had fled. They really should know better than to disturb him when he was in here, he worked himself to the bone to make their job possible, make patients happy and fix their mistakes, they better get out of his way if he needed a break for once. He did now. 

His thoughts had been spiraling helplessly ever since he had flipped through the papers and had actually taken in the signature under the bland text. _Roman Prince_. The letters were calligraphed effortlessly with a loopy curve of the ‘e’, the playful twist of the ‘n’. Fuck him. 

His face flushed red hot as he recalled smacking straight into the door-frame as recognition had hit him like a ton of bricks and blinded him for a shocking moment. Papers had gone flying and so had he. The worst, most embarrassing thing, however – instead of crashing to the floor like a dead bird, he had landed in Roman’s arms. The man had leaped from the bed and caught him much like he must have caught Patton today. And he had stared up at him like a fucking imbecile. 

Virgil hid his face in his hands and groaned, willing his whole existence to end. This whole idea was ludicrous! And still. He peeked down from between his fingers, at the opened book, its pages bathed in eerily blue light from his screen. The words were right there, written in the exact same handwriting. 

His gaze wandered back to one of the morons earlier videos. He was ashamed to confess he had known exactly where to look. The man might be a nuisance, but he was such good eye candy, he had not been able to resist muting the video and watching it alone at night, his cheeks heating as he did. Sometimes, however, he had felt reluctant amusement and curiosity and had watched one to the end. And that was where he had heard it – a phrase from the book. As he had looked through the others, he had found more and more figures of speech or phrases thrown into the irritating wailing that reminded him of the graceful writing he had poured over with such fascination. And of course, there was the most obvious sign. _Fair Patton_. He called him that, all the time. None of those hints were definitive proof, but he felt the certainty growing in his bones. He was the mysterious author. He had written his favorite book. For Patton. 

Some stubborn, practical part of him melted. This was the sweetest gesture he had ever witnessed. Patton, the dying spirit enclosed in a jar. The longer he thought about it, the more parallels became obvious to him. The poisonous air, the clumsy, awkward AI, _the teenage girl_. 

Virgil felt strange. Touched and embarrassed and shy and pleased and – and – he tried to breathe through his conflicting feelings. It was impossible. How could he have been so wrong about Roman?! All of this time, he had thought him to be some obnoxious, irritating air-head who was chasing him mostly because Virgil refused him and who made up his illness half of the time for attention. He now had to admit to himself that he had willfully turned a blind eye on a lot of things. The way Roman was so self-sacrificing and tender when it came to Patton. He had seen him do things he had clearly disliked, touch people and go places and come to the hospital that clearly scared him again and again and again. And he held him with such tenderness. It looked so safe and warm whenever he saw Roman envelope the small man in his embrace. And Patton doted on him, how had he ignored that?! But then again, Patton befriended anyone. Once a scammer had called him and tried to sell him some miracle pills for lots of money. Patton had felt bad for him and ordered some and had furthermore talked to him for two hours. They were still friends and chatted regularly on the phone. Apparently, he now sold rubber gloves and had changed his ways. 

Still, Virgil had ignored other things. Like the fact that Roman was a good listener. He was attentive and gentle and focused all of his attention on others when they needed it. And apparently, he was suffering. 

The nurse had always had a hard time believing his condition was as bad as he claimed. He was too loud and obnoxious to not do it for attention. But perhaps that was the only way he knew how to do it? Virgil was not used to dealing with psychological illnesses. The suffering he dealt with was easy to see – gaping wounds or agonizing cramps, bleeding or the slow decay of cancer or other illnesses. Roman was strong and healthy and Virgil had had no patience for him. He had failed him badly. 

A dull pain burrowed into his chest. 

Even though he had spent so much time looking at him, admiring his broad shoulders, his tan skin, his lovely, sparkling green eyes or his large, gentle hands, he had never really _seen_ him.

The pain intensified as he realized just how he had treated the man. He had judged him, objectified him, pushed him away. He wrapped his arms around his thin, aching chest. The guilt felt like a sharp, crystallized thing now. He knew why he had kept Roman at a distance. 

Growing up in the foster system was hard for every kid, but if you were pretty, skinny and starved for affection, it was pure hell. Older, equally frustrated boys had found it easy to take advantage of him. A few promises, a little kindness and he had been willing to do anything, even if it hurt him. Later, his suffering had been caused by his own damn fault. His own choices. 

He was bad at judging men who were interested in him. For a long time, he had hoped this one would mean it, this time he would find a place to belong, someone who cared about him. How easy it had been for them. He had not learned at all, and it had left him bruised or crying way too often. He had come to curse his slender, pretty physique, his delicate face, his slim limbs – and all of the men interested in him. It had made trusting Logan hard, but the moron had persisted in his selfless, awkward way to care for him. He had not wanted to touch Virgil even once. Since the day he had patched him up, they had not touched for months before they casually brushed past each other in Logan’s tiny, obsessively clean kitchen. It had helped. Distance, independence and Logan’s undemanding affection had helped show him how badly he had been hurt and had made him come to a conclusion. He was done with men. If he needed to get laid, he found a man for a night on his conditions, but usually he was too nervous or scared. Being alone was better, what he needed most was care and affection, and he got that from Patton and Logan. 

And then Roman had come along. 

In order to protect himself from unwanted advances, Virgil had toughened up. He had buried everything soft and needy and had not allowed for much change since then (even though Patton somehow habitually softened him up). Roman was not deterred, however. Every day, he would flirt with him, fight with him, try to get his attention or ramble about him in his blog. He was annoying, impossible, adorable, charming, almost irresistible. Virgil wanted him badly. 

The sensation of heat flooding his body when those eyes had settled on him had made him uncomfortable, waking memories he would have rather forgotten. The feeling of warmth, however, soft and intense and deep in his chest, had terrified him. This emotion – it was dangerous. It must not be, so he had done all he could to ward off his growing affection. And yet, Roman was nothing like the men that had used him only to cast him away. He was sweet and well spoken, funny and loving, ridiculous and talented and rich and successful, yet somehow shy and clumsy in his dramatic way. He was a serious threat to Virgil’s self-imposed isolation. Which was why he had to keep him at bay. 

And all this time, while he had tried his best to push him away and turn him into the attention seeking, obnoxious idiot, he had forgiven him. Yes, he had griped and fought and complained and wailed, but he had been persistently nice, attentive and courteous. Whenever he had not been an insufferable brat. Some parts of his behavior, Virgil had certainly not imagined. 

Longingly, he allowed his fingers to trace over the graceful letters inked into the book’s thick pages. Roman had created that. It was still sinking in. As was the realization that while Virgil had tried his best to warp his perception of him, Roman had looked at him and seen him. 

The teenage girl. 

He now knew that Patton was edged into the character of the little spirit, that its suffering spilled Roman’s own fears on paper, that even Logan had made it into this work of fear and wonder – he also believed that he was there too. It scared him. 

The girl had intrigued him from the start. He had not elaborated on her, because he had felt shy about his enthusiasm, but he had related to her. 

She was a trans girl – and not a dainty, delicate, pretty one after an elaborate transition. The world Roman had so cruelly written her into had no patience for individuality or tolerance for wanting to be anything but useful. Sadly, despite of her hatred of her body, she had grown into a man’s form – tall and broad-shouldered and anything but feminine. It was a built ideal for maneuvering the rough society that was struggling to survive. To make it through, you had to toughen up, so she had. However, despite wearing practical clothes and chopping her hair relatively short, she had always yearned to be seen as who she really was. For somebody to look at her and not see a man, but a girl that wanted to be treated with gentleness and chivalry. She had admired beautiful, delicate things and dreamed of soft fabrics and romantic dates with a man who kissed her hand and gave her flowers. Now Virgil was no trans woman, but to some things, he related intimately. 

There was this one concession to being different and vulnerable she allowed herself, even at the risk of being discovered – a silken, purple hair-clip adorned with a bow. It stood out like a rose petal among a sea of dirt and ashes and was defended fiercely. Though it looked naive and vulnerable, it was a sign of strength and rebellion to her, once Virgil could appreciate. Whenever she was deep in thought, she could twist a lock of hair away from her face as if she were starting an elaborate braid and tuck it behind her ear where the bow was pinned - a small token of femininity and beauty. Throughout the book, it had become her signature move. It was also something Virgil did whenever he felt uncomfortable. 

The insecure man resisted the urge to scold himself. How could he believe someone so insignificant could inspire a work of fiction he admired so greatly? But the certainty wouldn’t budge. Of course, he was no trans woman, and he did not believe Roman thought he was, it was just a metaphor like the glass jar or the A.I. And it was a good one. Like the girl, Virgil felt like he was trapped in an image he had to uphold to protect himself due to the way he was born and the circumstances he was born into while everything he wanted was to have a small share of the things women were taking for granted and that men were looked down upon for wanting. He wanted to feel beautiful once in a while. Wanted to have his hand held and to be complimented and to wear something soft and flowing and not be taken advantage of or judged for. He wanted to curl up and watch Queer Eye and gossip and braid his hair and be taken on a date and be made to feel special. There were so many things women were allowed to do – had fought to be allowed to do – without losing respect. He did not want to be a woman at all, but he wished that sometimes he did not have to be so hard and fierce and in control all the time and just be held and protected. And loved.

Those were the very urges that had made him such an easy target for men looking for a quick fuck in the past. He was deeply ashamed of them. And yet, they were a part of him he could not deny. Since reading the book, some part of him wanted to do it less. “Fuck those bastards,” he had wanted to say. “I don’t owe them a thing – I know what matters most to me.”

Her words. Roman’s words. They had made him feel empowered. 

He took hold of the novel and cradled it in his arms carefully, heeling it against his chest. Had Roman really seen all of that from the way he had interacted with them? From the way he had tried to uphold the angry facade that had grown heavy on his shoulders? From the way he had allowed himself to be weak in Patton’s arms and trusted Logan to take care of things when he felt tired with the world? From the way he looked at _him_? Now that was a thought that had his face heat in embarrassment again. 

However, instead of using this knowledge to give him confidence and coax him into bed, Roman had remained obnoxious and clumsy and loud, as if he had been nervous around him – and he had included him in his book.

A lick of resentment reared its head in Virgil’s chest. Why had he not told him?! He had used them all as inspiration and had clearly understood much more about them than he had been willing to admit. Instead, he had shown them the facade of the dramatic idiot. Did he get off on playing with them – with Virgil?! 

Yet before his anger, fierce and sharp as it often was, could get the better of him, he recalled Roman’s hopeful face. He had looked so vulnerable and docile, as if he had submissively awaited his judgment. Maybe he was just a shy idiot in reality who had no idea how to talk to men he liked. Perhaps he had channeled his own insecurities into the A.I. representing Logan in some unconscious way. He was certainly not very smooth when talking to Virgil.

The thought of all the attempted flirting he had done that had inevitably lead to scathing arguments made Virgil laugh. Affection flooded him unexpectedly. He had never allowed himself to admit how much he enjoyed their quick and funny banter, but truth be told, he had always felt light and happy whenever he had seen Roman’s name among the list of newly arrived patients. Before the inevitable irritation had set in. 

Perhaps it was time Virgil took the lead in their relationship and showed him how to do better. If he wanted to. 

Did he?

Admittedly, he was scared to death. Roman was not only impossibly annoying, he was also sensitive and playful and funny and loyal and way too good for a little criminal turned nurse like him. 

He still wanted him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Virgil contemplates his changed perception or the annoying hypochondriac, Patton finds Logan trying to come to control his reaction to Patton’s condition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: fear of death, anxiety

Logan paced up and down in front of Patton’s room like a mindless, caged animal, his steps loud in the quiet stillness of a hospital mostly asleep. His thoughts were a hazy mess, tumbling around his skull with the pounding of his trapped, worried heart. It ached and hurt. Once again, he had to place a palm over the suffering organ as the fear turned to a real, physical ache. _Psychogenic pain_ , his mind helpfully supplied. Likely caused by the shock of a reported collapse of one of his patients, or more specifically, by the prolonged and now amplified fear of the death of the man he cared for more than almost any other in the world. 

Patton. 

The ache intensified. 

Patton had collapsed. 

He gasped, clutching his chest tighter. 

Their time was running out and he did not know what to do about it. He was useless. A coward. He did not even go inside and attempt to comfort him in whatever inept way he could. He yearned to be close to him and yet the door between them, the distance between himself and his patient that he so desperately wanted to be more with, felt like a massive chasm he did not know how to cross. He did not know how to live with himself anymore. 

His whole body flinched as the door he had been pacing in front of opened. 

Patton. 

The slender young man stood in the doorway, blinking against the cold, sterile light of the hallway. His soft tresses were disheveled, his small body wrapped in a too large, crimson wool cardigan that had clearly been borrowed from Roman. Logan stared in shock at his lovely, freckled face, before he realized how he had been caught. A shameful flush heated his cheeks. Patton ought to be able to rely on his professionalism, he was the best cardiologist and heart surgeon in the area, he must not frighten Patton with his erratic behavior, he- 

A delicate hand caught hold of his larger one, intertwining their fingers without hesitation. Logan felt like the floor was dropping out from under him, like he was flying. He marveled at this young man’s courage. While he had been pacing and over-analyzing, too afraid to even step into the room without an excuse to hide behind, Patton had bridged the gap between then in his effortless, fearless way. He had never seen him look afraid. How Logan admired him. 

Gaining a small amount of courage from the contact, he enveloped the pale hand more securely in his own, warming the cool fingers and daring to caress the back of his hand. His blood was rushing in his ears like a fierce river. He was not supposed to touch his patient this way, was not supposed to like it, and yet he wanted so much more. He wanted to wrap Patton in his arms and shield him from the world with his body, take away all of his fears and worries and _heal_ him. 

He was not being a good doctor to him, unable to help and additionally craving him like a dying man thirsted for water – he could not get enough. And still he was afraid of giving up his care to a colleague for the chance to court Patton. The lingering hope that he could help him, save him somehow, would not let him slack in his duty. 

Patton was still holding his hand – enjoying the caress, perhaps? Logan could only guess. If he were to look up now, Patton would see the tears he so desperately tried to blink away, the loss of control, the utter unprofessionality that made him a failure of a doctor. 

The warm wool socks clumsily knitted in rainbow colors adorning his feet blurred before his vision, turning to smears of bright color. Patton’s feet and fingers were often cold due to his poor circulation. Another stab to his heat. 

Still patient and ever kind, the young man stepped closer, into his doctor’s line of vision. “Walk with me, doctor?”

He had no excuses left, swallowed back tears, nodded, followed his lead. Anywhere. 

Patton spent a lot of time here. Too much. He knew his way around and led them through silent corridors, up a staircase – outside. 

The balcony on the roof of the building was deserted, empty of furniture and people, opening to the velvety night sky filled with twinkling stars. He had never been up here. 

Silence enveloped them like a dark curtain, muffling the world around them with cool light and the clear night-air. Patton was quiet, waiting. He knew when to simply listen. 

Even though Logan could barely look, the way the moonlight illuminated his pale, freckled skin caught his attention through the corner of his eye. He swallowed hard, trying to chase away his nerves and misery and yearling to step closer, to pull this man in, to hold on. He felt so ethereal in the moonlight, almost unreal. The irrational fear that he would turn into smoke and starlight and be blown away by the softest gust of wind before his very eyes made his chest constrict. What was wrong with him?! His hand tightened around the soft one in his grasp. As the silence stretched, Logan started squirming. He was not good with loaded silences, the tension between them made him want to talk, to fill it somehow.

He clenches his jaw, felt his teeth grinding into each other. His pulse was too quick, his mind in turmoil. Something was clawing against his throat, trying to escape. He desperately attempted to wrangle his emotions under control. Patton needed someone he could trust. He could do it. He knew he could. He’d breathe through his nose and hold onto the pieces of himself that were threatening to bust apart at the seams and spill all the sweet and bitter things he kept hidden, he would-

“Why won’t you take this seriously?!” 

The works burst out of him with no hope of containing them. His voice was shaking, his body quivering with the useless effort to hold on to his composure. Patton unraveled him. 

“What?” He asked, innocently confused. His light blue eyes were large and honest, like he had nothing to hide and no fear of his emotions. 

“Your condition, your- I don’t-” Shuddering and gasping for breath among the tears rising to the surface, among his mind screaming at him not to do this to Patton, he wiped his eyes roughly. The question broke past all of his defenses. How could he be so calm when the life of the purest person on the world, _his_ life, was about to end?! Logan could not sleep, could barely eat, hardly think with the threat of Patton’s loss hanging over him. Something inside of him was certain the world would turn to dry and bitter dust once the source of light would be gone, that all the color would be leeched from his vision and he would be left in cold and gray without this man he had crashed in love with. How could it had come to this? Why did it have to be Patton? Could it not have been him instead? The only person who would miss him was the resilient, brave nurse in his care – who cared for him – and he would soon be in the arms of this exasperating man even Logan could not help but adore, happy and loved. He ached with the unfairness of the fact that it had to be Patton instead of him. Patton, who for some reason had not cried for himself once, who smiled for everyone, even now. 

“And what good would that do?” The former councilor’s voice was gentle instead of offended. “Of course I could spend my days crying in my room, but that would only make you sad.” He added earnestly.

Logan felt like he choked on Patton’s words. “ _Me?!_ ” He asked brokenly. How could he still put everyone else first?

“Yes! You, silly! I don’t want to see people I care about become sad because of me, I only want to bring you joy! But it’s about me too. Why would I waste my time crying when I have so much left to do? So much life to live, no matter how much time I still have, there are years – decades I could fill with beautiful things.” 

He leaned closer, wiping away a tear that had fallen without the doctor’s consent. His touch was light as a feather, his eyes bright with passion. Logan was caught aback by the fire in his eyes. 

“The people that care for me have cried more than enough already. I’d much rather they stay close...” He whispered. His palm cupped Logan’s cheek, making his breath catch and heat pool in his body. “…and enjoy those beautiful things with me.” 

He looked deeply into his attractive doctor’s eyes, feeling brave and strong, like he always did in his presence. Patton’s little hummingbird heart was soaring. It was as strong as ever, pressed so close to the tall man before him, beating like little wings against his ribs. It made elation and eagerness pump through his veins. It was possible – all of the things Patton had dreamed about, he could feel it. 

“Do you care about me too?” He asked softly, hopefully. Despite his enthusiastic heart, he was afraid of the answer. It would almost be too good to be true! This man who was so caring and intelligent and made Patton feel so alive – could he really feel the same?

Defeated by the weight of the truth, the power of his affection, Logan bowed his head – and nodded.

A squeal almost burst his eardrums as he was knocked back by the force of the little body jumping into his arms. Patton was almost thrumming with happiness. It pushed its way past Logan’s defenses, forced the pleasure and love he felt to unravel and spread through his limbs. It was a strange contrast to the iron weight in his chest, threatening to drag him down. 

He wrapped his arms around Patton, allowing himself one more step out of line, and hugged him to his body. He fit perfectly, his face hidden in his neck, his smooth cheek against Logan’s, his breath on his skin. The certainty that he was where he belonged. He would reclaim the restrictive mantle of his responsibility for this man’s health once again in a few minutes, be professional and distant and serve him as well as he could, but for now, he would memorize everything about his sweet smell, the curve of his spine under his palm, the way he melted into him with such complete trust. He gained strength from their connection, however brief it might be, and would use it to rebuild his shields. 

Patton had other plans though.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The idea of dating a man and making himself vulnerable to someone he genuinely cares about makes Virgil queasy and nervous. However, he believes Patton can help him gather his courage. First he has to get Roman out of their joined room though...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Hypochondria, insecurity

Virgil allowed himself only a moment to contemplate whether it was a good idea to sneak into a patient’s room late at night. He did not want to disturb Patton, but he knew he was often awake at night and appreciated the distractions and he _really_ needed to talk to a friend, he was freaking out here. 

Of course, the fact that the object of his anxiety and anticipation was very loudly snoring in the same room was not helpful at all! For such an elegant and handsome man, he sure snored like an old trucker. It soothed Virgil somewhat to see some sides of the man he could be playfully annoyed about instead of becoming more intimidated by him and what he contemplated doing. 

Dating. 

He contemplated dating the man. 

He groaned, pulling at his hair. He did not _date_ , he did not go out with men and made himself vulnerable to them, he had put those rules in place for a good reason! But he could not ignore his attraction, or his affection any longer. He liked Roman. He wanted to spend time with him and argue about his annoying habits and banter and discuss the books they both enjoyed and he wanted him to kiss his knuckles and smile at him in the morning and he wanted to soothe that fear that always left the writer a nervous, irritating mess. He finally wanted to be there for him. And he could not do that from the other side of a door. Steeling himself, he quietly knocked and eased the door open.

Patton stilled his quiet pacing and frowned at the door. Had doctor Sanders come back? He had hoped he was feeling better. His heart skipped a beat as his kiddo peeked into the room. Just the person he had wanted to see! He really wanted to talk to someone who knew the gentle doctor, and Roman unfortunately did not count in this case. The poor thing really needed the rest after his exciting day. But why was Virgil here, his shift was long over!

“Um, hey Pat, can I talk to you?” He mumbled, nervously glancing at the bed Roman had just rolled over in with a grunt. 

“Of course!” Patton squealed, sliding over on socked feet to hug his distressed kiddo. Had his squeal not woken Roman, his misjudgment of the speed and distance that made him crash into Virgil’s arms with an ‘oof’ would have certainly done the trick. 

The author shot upright with an almost indistinguishable “Whassit?!”, pillow creases marking one cheek and usually luxurious locks standing up on one side. He blinked at them owlishly. “Aryuhurt?” He mumbled, concern seeping into his slurred speech as he rubbed his eyes.

Virgil melted a little. Patton a lot. 

“Awwww it’s all good, Princey, we were just having a chat! Sorry to wake you.” He cooed lovingly.

“Oh. About what? Do you need me to-” 

“NO!” Virgil interrupted vehemently. Anxiety flooded his nerves. He felt too shaken by the recent realization to have Roman here and be disheveled and caring. He needed to go! 

“You need to leave! L- Sanders is in the mess at the corner booth, go! Sit with him!” He ordered. In his stress, he had almost slipped and called Logan by his first-name. No one did around Patton, since they all knew he harbored the romantic notion that he would wear the man down and get him to tell him himself in a show of trust or something ridiculous like that. It was eerie how Patton had all of them in the palm of his hand. Anyway, Logan was probably there right now. It was where he went to think at night. Had he gone home, his phone would have already gone off with worried messages about how he was not home yet. Such a mom. Clearly, it made perfect sense to make them keep each other company. Roman just did not know that. He looked quite taken aback and a little hurt. 

Virgil hated when he looked hurt. 

“I – sorry, I don’t mean I don’t want you here – I don’t! But- we need to talk! About – uh-” He broke off abruptly as the caring writer approached him and took a calming hold of his upper arms, only minimally grimacing at the material that had probably been worn by other nurses in the past. 

“It’s fine. I’ll leave. But, if there is anything I can do, anything at all, let me know, alright?” He offered gently, his green eyes earnest. 

Virgil swallowed hard, a flush climbing to his cheeks that was hopefully hidden by the darkened room. This was why he instantly hissed and growled at the man. If he couldn’t, he became a tongue tied mess. Nervously, he reached up quite automatically and twisted his hair back. 

The author’s eyes were drawn to the movement, like they always were, he realized. They were very soft. Only this time, Virgil was very aware of his attention. Awkwardly, he snatched his hand away, twisting it into the fabric of his scrubs. 

Oh no.

Roman had noticed. 

His eyes widened as he put two and two together. Virgil had figured it out! He released the nurse’s arms, stepping back hastily. Oh god, he would surely kick him where it hurt! How could he have been such an idiot, writing him into his book in such an obvious way instead of owning up to his feelings, and with such a plump metaphor too! Portraying him as a trans-girl? How could he have chosen such a blunt picture for the subtle nuances he had noticed in his character? The way his eyes softened when he observed a cute, older couple together? The way he had seen him expertly braid the hair of a young girl in his care until she felt pretty and was distracted from her troubles? The way he admiringly brushed his nimble fingers over the soft fabrics Patton wore so well or how he curled into his arms, needing to be held. Those things did not make him any less of a man, he had not wanted to give that impression! Just like a male body and the need to uphold a tough, fearless exterior had not made his fictional character any less of a girl. Still, men did not like being compared to women as a compliment, even to a strong one, _stupid_! 

He lowered his head, cheeks burning and ready to accept Virgil’s well known rants, as the young man hesitantly stepped closer. 

“Hey, it’s okay! I just – I need to talk to Patton, okay? Please?” He asked softly, pleading with him to respect the boundaries he was setting. Roman nodded. 

This was better than what he could have hoped for. They would probably discuss how to let him down gently while they banished him into the filthy cafeteria where all the patients had touched everything with unwashed hands, rude! But Virgil’s friend would be there, and Roman would use that. Virgil’s uncharacteristic gentleness gave him a flicker of hope, a flame of determination. Before he could turn him down, Roman would give this relationship one last try. He would be brave and honest and open this time instead of hiding behind his illness and annoying the lovely nurse, like the knight he wished he could be. Deep down, he knew he was more mouse than man, he could not even delude himself enough to make his literary alter-ego the hero. That was Virgil’s role. Yet this time, he would be brave enough to make himself vulnerable and give them one last try.

Fueled by the courage his mission gave him, he grabbed shoes, jacket, phone, face-mask, rubber gloves and disinfecting spray (the barest minimum required for a trip outside) and valiantly ventured into the hospital. 

“He sure is dramatic.” Virgil mumbled as Roman strutted out of the room like a peacock on a mission.

***

Roman shifted his grip on the paper wrapped stems once again. They were sweaty. He should have kept his gloves on, this was gross! But who wanted to accept flowers from a man essentially dressed for a surgery?! He really was doing his best, but his resources were sadly limited! He glared at the unrepentant doctor to make sure he was reminded of the fact that his misery was entirely his fault! SO uncooperative, what sort of villain stood in the way of true love?!

Admittedly, he had been rather attentive and willing to listen – after he had established that he had only the best interest of the temperamental nurse on mind! Jeez, who knew they lived together and the stiff doctor could become so protective? Secretly, he was glad to hear the young man had managed to let someone in though. Logan really was a sweet man when you looked past all the regrettable stiffness and the overall lack of charisma. He had no idea what Patton saw in him – aside from the tall, handsome built, the elegant hands, the general competence, the free and easily available healthcare and the adorable attentiveness and badly hidden urge to take care of people. The man probably adopted filthy strays from the streets when no one was looking. Ew! Yet, he supposed he could live with allowing Logan into his life. And no, he had no qualms about pestering him for his first-name and using it _continuously_ despite the resigned glare. He wouldn’t tell Patton of course, that little angel was scary when he did not get what he wanted. 

The doctor had declined accompanying him upstairs, looking so flustered that Roman had almost thrown caution in the wind and hugged the cardiologist. Almost. He was not suicidal, the man could have been elbows-deep in somebody’s torso a while ago. He did wonder what had happened though and vowed to find out from Patton – the flirty little minx was sure to know, and help as much as he could.

Now, however, he had to survive the greatest challenge of his young life – asking Virgil on a data without directing his attention away from his earnest affection with his complaints or starting to bicker with this beautiful, exasperating creature. Those tactics to protect himself had no place in this scenario. Steeling himself, he knocked. 

Patton opened the door and beamed as he saw him, bless his sweet soul. “It’s for you!” He chirped over his shoulder, before he stood on his little tiptoes and kissed Roman’s cheek. Then he was gone, skipping down the corridor and cheerfully greeting nurse Tabia who had just arrived for the day shift. Had they really talked for such a long time?

He was pulled from his thoughts quite abruptly by the sight he had been hoping for. It made dread and warmth uncurl in his chest with equal fervor, making him dizzy. Virgil looked at him with wide eyes, taking in the effort he had made with his hair, the nice clothes he had fished from the hospital’s laundry service – thankfully he always kept a few sets here, and the flowers he was clutching in shaking hands. They felt woefully inadequate. 

Virgil’s heart lurched at the sight of the writer standing in the doorway. Despite his clear nervousness, he looked ready to conquer the world. His shoulders were squared, his eyes determined – it was a good look on him. His obvious handsomeness make the nurse even more nervous, especially as his gaze landed on the large bouquet clutched in front of the man like a shield. How had he missed it? Oh right – Roman’s general attractiveness that habitually made his brain short-circuit.

Wait, did that mean what he thought it did?! Had Patton and he really spent all night making plans for each other, just for Roman to beat him to the punch? So all of their hard work and Patton’s attempts to talk some courage into Virgil were for naught! He was so fucking relieved. Asking someone out for the first time was an experience he had not been looking forward to at all! Also, he had secretly been dreaming about Roman doing it. 

Getting up, he slowly dared to cross the room on shaking legs, trying to shallow his doubts. Patton had assured him that the book, the looks, the attention, the flirting and annoying that had been consistently going on for all the years they had been coming here, all of those were not part of an elaborate practical joke, Roman would not laugh at him. But the insecurity was hard to shake. He did not understand what the man saw in him. Where had he found the inspiration to depict him as a determined protector in his writing? He did not feel like a hero at all. Surprisingly though, the flowers helped. No one had ever given him something so beautiful in his entire life. His heart fluttered with awe. 

The bouquet in his hands was created from a collection of purple, sweet smelling lilac, delicate petals of pale lavender sweet-pea blossoms, softly curved, opening buds of freesias and delicately curled pale violet roses. Virgil had to swallow around a lump in his throat. Nobody gave men like him something so – so utterly pure and gorgeous. It just did not happen in his world!

After a few, speechless moments, Virgil noticed a few loose leaves fluttering to the ground. Though beautifully put together and an absolute pleasure to admire, the flowers looked a little worse for wear. It felt fitting, considering the man who was holding them, and the fact that they were now even more interesting to the curious nurse. 

“What happened to those?” he asked softly. 

Roman’s tan skin flushed crimson. “Um, in my defense, it is very hard to find flowers people refrained from ruthlessly poisoning with pesticides and artificial fertilizer at this time of night. Additionally, I really wanted to make sure my first present to you would not end with a tragic accident that might hurt you.” He elaborated, looking shy. 

Virgil snorted. Amused affection lightened his nerves. He felt so close to this strange man suddenly. 

“How could your flowers hurt me?” He asked, his smile growing helplessly. Roman spluttered.

“Of course the flowers would not harm you, I would never choose plants that could hurt your fair skin! However, bouquets have been known to harbor terrible, well camouflaged hunters ready to bite any unsuspecting victim! Goldenrod spiders hunting on flowers and being overlooked by careless florists are a constant threat!” 

Even while he was delivering his passionate speech, he realized that he had taken things too far again in his worry. Normal people did not worry about spiders in the flowers they gifted loved ones with. He had only honestly meant to protect him though. He knew his constant worry was a nuisance, but he could not help himself. His mind had gone into overdrive as he had considered all the possible risk to his lovely nurse. 

Virgil did not laugh at him though, or snarl at him like he usually did. The smile lighting up his face was soft. Tentatively, he reached out for them. Barely believing his luck, Roman handed them over. 

“So what did you do to them to clear them for me?” He asked as his slender fingers brushed over the petals reverently. They complimented his fair skin and purple locks perfectly. Roman required a moment to gather his scattered whits. 

“Um – actually I had planned to have them put through an MRI scanner, but Logan, a.k.a. doctor donnish would not let me!” He wailed, once again enraged by the lack of effort the man invested in the care of their precious nurse. 

Virgil howled with laughter, imagining the look on Logan’s face as he had been forced to argue that no – flowers did not qualify for medical imaging procedures. The petals were butter-soft under his fingertips and filled the room with an irresistible sweetness. It seemed to fill his head, make him feel luxuriously warm and sensual and desirable. It was not a feeling he was used to, despite his numerous sexual encounters. 

“How’d you do it then?” He asked, casually stepping closer to the taller man. His breath hitched, making Virgil feel wanted. He liked the feeling. 

“I – that is – _we_ disassembled to bouquet and – and used properly sterilized operating equipment to – to check any possible hiding place. Which is why some of the petals might have come a tiny bit … loose.” He finished lamely, lamenting the fragility of flowers when poked with metal tweezers. 

Unable to escape the hilarity of the image of a sour-faced Logan operating on some expensive weeds in the middle of the night, Virgil hid his face in the flowers and giggled. Tears were streaming down his pretty face. He felt like he could fly. Confidence like he had never felt before flooded his body. For the first time, there was no hesitation as he looked up at the gorgeous mess before him. 

“Yes.” He uttered softly. 

Roman’s eyes widened. “Yes – as in – yes, you will go out with me, let me court you and spend the rest of your life in my arms?” He rambled hopefully, his filter shot to hell.

Virgil snorted, his chest swelling with emotion and relief. “Let’s start with a date, okay?” 

His smile felt too bright for his face, felt as bright as the perfect one Roman almost blinded him with. He wondered if this perfection could last, if they would not be bickering before their date had come to an end. He didn’t care, looked forward to it in fact. He was so close to the other man, he could see the possibility in his eyes. His dream of holding someone’s hand, of a man playing with his fingers and kissing them without making crude remarks or demanding to touch. Having tender fingers run through his hair and play with the strands, making him shiver with innocent pleasure. Having his cheeks cupped in larger hands before he was kissed like he was worth something. He wanted all of it. The shy looks, the dates, the little things he had never experienced. And eventually he wanted to climb this gorgeous man like a tree and enjoy those broad shoulders and strong arms. But there was time. For now, even if he was not innocent himself, his dreams were, and Roman looked so willing to indulge him. 

A fierce protectiveness rose in the young nurse. He grabbed his hand, firm and safe. He would look after this idiot.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since Logan’s lenient attitude towards his flirting, as well as his emotional break-down have given him hope that the kind doctor might return his feelings, he chooses to take initiative.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: none

Virgil and him had spent a long time talking and making plans. The kiddo’s wishes were so sweet and pure, Patton was so happy he wanted to allow himself to be courted and spoiled, which happened to be just what the romantic man wanted. He also really needed somebody caring and protective like the fierce nurse to look after him. They were so perfect for each other and he was sure Virgil be there for Roman and go on dates and take things slow for once and they would grow closer every day! 

Patton was looking for something else though. 

He believed in his future with the serious doctor, he _wanted_ it – and he had no time to waste! There was so much living he still had to do, so much he had not experienced yet while he had been at home, cautiously waiting for a heart to be found when he had a perfectly good one beating for the man on the other side of this door! He wanted to throw himself headfirst into life and taste it all. He was ready. He knocked. 

Finding out his address had not been hard, Virgil trusted him with his best friend after all. Since the young man was out with Roman and the weekend had just started, Patton had all the time in the world and he had plans for it. Doctor Sanders had been so sad on the rooftop last night, his tears had cut Patton deeply and burned themselves into his mind despite his happiness about his confession. He wanted to ease the tension around the man’s mouth, see his shoulders loosen and his lips curl into a real smile. He wanted to hear him laugh. He knew he could make him happy. 

Shuffling on the other side alerted the young man to the fact that the serious doctor was indeed already awake. He had made sure to spend the day at the hospital before discharging himself to the annoyance and worry of the nurses. He had wanted to give the man a good day’s sleep after the lost night at Roman’s side. Also, their worry was completely unnecessary. He was in the best hands. 

His little heart jumped as the door opened, revealing the sleepy looking man he had been waiting for. Patton had never seen him this way. Whenever he did not have to dress for surgery, he was impeccably clothed in tidy, elegant trousers, dark vests over pressed, stark white shirts and a tie of varying shades of blue under his clean white coat. It was a look to die for. This man looked completely different. 

His hair was disheveled. Raven and thick, it fell into his face in an adorable mess. Gone were his formal clothes. Their replacement consisted of a t-shirt that was so thin and well-worn it was impossible to tell whether it used to be blue or gray and his very little of the body underneath. It hugged his well-built shoulders and slim hips just right and looked very soft. His long legs were encased in comfortable looking, dark blue sweatpants that pooled around bare feet. Patton barely repressed a delighted gasp at the most adorable detail. On his shoulder sat an actual rat!

He hardly noticed the bashful flush that climbed Logan’s cheeks or the way he marveled at the unexpected sight before him. Patton, in his flat! Where he walked around in his favorite shirt, uncombed like a heathen! He equally wanted to beg his companion rat to hide him and at the same time take Patton in for as long as he was allowed. His sight was like a gust of fresh wind. His honey locks were shining and curled to perfection, his skin almost glowing in the warm light of the wood-paneled corridor. Even his lashes looked darker than usual, making him look even more innocent and lovely. The pale blue, soft shirt brought out the sky color of his eyes. He was utterly adorable with his delighted smile and was also not supposed to be here at all! 

Fighting his embarrassment, he attempted to inquire about the reason for his appearance and inform him about the dangers of a prolonged absence from the hospital and its optimal care, when he was interrupted enthusiastically. 

“Wait, please! I know you want to send me back and that you might not want me here, I’m sorry for bursting in like this, but you see, I don’t have time to waste!” He chirped. “I want to be honest with you because I don’t want any regrets. Will you listen? Please?”

His large, blue eyes were impossible to resist. Logan started to understand why half of the staff fell over themselves to make him happy. He was a force of nature when he had made up his mind and the doctor felt helpless to deny him in his determination. He didn’t want to. Having Patton in his home, the place he was most comfortable in and most vulnerable was a guilty fantasy he had entertained for a long time. The forced distance between them had tortured him more and more in the years he had known the young man and been flirted with. So many times he had wished he was braver, brave enough to stop hiding behind his responsibility for him and invite Patton to dinner, to his home, where he could hold him in his arms during his cold and lonely nights when he wondered if he was taken care of. He had looked around the space he inhabited so often and wondered what it might be like, to have such a source of light and love in his home. Would Patton put flowers on the table or bake in his kitchen? Would he sing while he whirled around the space? Sometimes his dreams had been so vivid, he had been surprised to come home to an empty flat. And now he was here. He stepped aside to allow him in. 

Logan did not dare to assume why he had come and did his best to suppress the hopes and ideas, however, the young man appeared determined to torture him. As he passed, peeking around him curiously and beaming at his loyal rodent stretching its twitching nose in his direction, Logan caught sight of the exposed skin of the back of his neck. 

His shirt was opened almost halfway down his back, held together at the top by a delicate, blue bow. Logan’s mouth went dry. 

Patton bit his lip to hide his smile. Recruiting Roman to help him get ready before the enthusiastic man had dashed off to his date had really paid off. A pleased blush climbed his cheeks. He had wanted Logan to enjoy looking at him so badly, feeling his attention made him feel beautiful and wanted. It was a sensation that was alien and exciting to him. 

“I didn’t know you had a pet!” He squealed, unable to help himself. He had never expected something so sweet. Tenderness welled up in him. How badly he wanted this kind man to be happy, to share this happiness with him, if he would just let him – and if they would have the time. 

The doctor hunched his shoulders meekly, jousting the rat with the movement. It squeaked in annoyance. “His name is Nicodemus. I adopted him after Virgil found him outside. He required medical assistance and chose to keep us company.” He explained, trying hard not to make it sound like he had caved to the might of Virgil’s sad eyes and the cute, pink nose of a hungry rat. 

Patton did not laugh at him though. He looked touched. “How kind of you.” He muttered softly, taking any hope of Logan’s blush dying down with him. He knew he ought to dispose him into the hospital as soon as possible, he had almost uttered the words, but Patton had stepped closer, offering his hand to the rodent to sniff. Nicodemus immediately stretched his little body towards Logan’s patient, completely enamored. Patton carefully brushed his fingertips over the downy fur between the rat’s ears, focusing all of his attention on the adorable animal so he could say what he had come here for. He was not nearly as confident as he tried to pretend. 

“They say you should live life like today were your last day. I don’t think it is, of course, I feel great! But I realize I’ve not been doing that, and that is a shame! I don’t want to miss anything, no matter how much time I have. There is so much left to do. Such important things I would like to try.” Despite his shyness, he dared to raise his eyes to the man above him. It would have been so much easier to fall for somebody less intimidatingly handsome! He swallowed, taking comfort from the rat nuzzling his palm. 

“I’ve never been kissed before.” He whispered into the space between them. His hummingbird heart was beating its wings hard. He could feel it – bright and alive in his chest. It would not fail him. 

Logan had frozen before him, a spooked look on his face. Was Patton implying-

“I waited for the right one.” He added quietly, tilting his chin up hopefully. Logan’s hope crumbled at the statement. The almost forgotten ache in his chest intensified. 

“So, you chose not to wait any longer and come to me instead?” He asked, his throat painfully tight. Patton had realized he was running out of time and had chosen the next best alternative, a man who was obviously, pitifully enamored with him. Though the thought hurt him sharply, there was no room for jealousy in his heart, he deeply wished Patton could have found whoever he had been waiting for.

The former councilor stepped back, a look of confusion passing over his freckled face. “Wha- NO!” He shook his head, utterly endeared with this oblivious man. Grabbing the doctor’s hand, he tried to put as much of his tenderness into his voice as he possibly could, trying to make him understand. 

“I want to kiss _you_! I want to hold your hand as we walk through the park and straighten your tie before you leave for work. I want to brush my teeth next to you every night and bake cookies every Sunday. I want to learn if you are grumpy in the morning and how you drink your coffee and if you talk to your rat as you get dressed. I want to know your quirks and habits and what your laugh sounds like when happiness overwhelms you. I want to see you with laugh lines and with gray hair over your temples. I want to be with _you_.” Softly he added. “It’s you. I’ve been waiting for you.”

He fell quiet, waiting for the most important decision of his young life. 

Logan stared at him, utterly floored. 

A shuddering breath escaped him, his cornflower eyes filling with tears. 

His hands were strong on his waist, large and warm and safe. 

Suddenly, Patton was being kissed. 

Patton’s world stuttered to a stop as he was pulled against Logan’s chest. No one had ever been so close to him or held him with such reverence. As he was touched with such love and passion, all of the tension and fear seemed to flow out of him – he melted into the arms cradling him close. 

Logan tilted his face with a gentle hand on his chin, pressing his lips against Patton’s in the lightest of caresses. The younger man could not help sighing in pleasure, a delighted shiver ghosting over his back. He stood on his tiptoes, wordlessly begging for more. Logan indulged him. 

His breath was warm as he changed their angel, wrapping his arm more firmly around the slender waist and pulling him closer. Their chests were pressed together as their lips started moving against each other, as Patton slowly learned what it felt like to be kissed by the man he had been waiting for. His eyes fluttered closed all the way, giving himself to the other trustingly, knowing he would make him feel good and take care of him. And Logan did. 

His large palm securely cupped the back of the younger man’s neck, tilting his chin further up, before he kissed him harder. His blood was on fire, flooding his body with heat. His whole world narrowed down to the slight form in his arms. Never in his life had he felt so alive, and so in love. 

Patton gasped as a firmer touch made his whole body tingle delightfully. He pressed back just as eagerly, wanting more. Logan was so warm and solid under his hands. He had no idea what he was doing, but he wanted more, closer, now! Following the more experienced man’s lead, he cupped his angular jaw, enjoying the intimacy of touching the other so freely. His heart thrummed in his chest, its little wings fluttering excitedly. It was just as happy as Patton was, he was certain of it. It had been many years since he had felt so close to his little friend, but at this moment he knew it beat for him with all of its love. They were where they belonged.

An unexpected sensation touching his hand caught Patton by surprise. Tiny little paws examined his fingers where they cupped the doctor’s face. Little whiskers ticked him. A laugh bubbled up his throat before he could stop himself, making him giggle into the kiss. Oh no, were you even allowed to laugh during a kiss? He had no idea! He did not want to make the older man angry, this moment was supposed to be perfect for both of them, a pure memory to cherish. 

Logan’s lips curled into a smile though, turning the kiss into a series of playful pecks against the patient’s sweet mouth and upturned face. Gentle hands directed his chin to the side, leading him, so his cheek could be kissed lovingly. Patton sighed. Pleasure and contentment seeped into his bones. This moment felt so utterly right. 

“Will you finally tell me your name, now?” Patton breathed against the taller man’s cheek as he nuzzled close, provoking a quiet laugh that vibrated through their joint bodies. 

“Logan.” He rumbled warmly, letting his hands run up and down Patton’s back in the most pleasant way. 

The young man smiled contently. A feeling of rightness settled over him. He was not surprised, you could not really be as enamored with a man as he was without picking up his name, but he had wanted Logan to choose to confide in him, to willingly overcome the walls he had built. It felt good. And he had enjoyed the way people had tried to indulge him, it made him feel loved. 

“I like it.” He grinned up at his Logan, bravely brushing his hair from his face. Giddiness made him feel alive as he realized that he was allowed to touch now. The usually so distant and serious man seemed so soft and open here, with his well worn clothes and his little put snuggling close. He knew finding the right words would be difficult for the quiet, shy doctor, but he could see it in his eyes, in the way his hands cradled his body, feel it in the way he kissed him like he was fragile and precious and beautiful. Patton was happy. 

Apparently, he still had to clear up a few things about their relationship though. 

“I ought to return you to the hospital now. Being here is unwise and poses serious risks to your health I cannot permit you to take.” Logan uttered strictly, clearly trying to look imposing as he squared his shoulders. He was clearly trying to be brave and make a last effort to hold on to his distance. “I have been behaving in a most unprofessional manner. As your doctor-” 

“You are not. Not anymore.” Patton interrupted, hoping he would not take those news the wrong way. “I know you would not want to be with a patient, you are far too noble to risk your duty this way. But you are already attached, I know it. It’s fine! I’m glad you are – it’s not that I don’t trust you!” He hastened to assure the man. He looked stricken at what he perceived to be an accusation. 

“I _want_ you to be attached! Remy can treat me just fine, I know you trained him. No one can replace what you mean to _me_ though! I’ve waited long enough, it’s time to live. With you! I want to experience what it is like to be alive, to be held and kissed and... touched. I have been given a loving heart to make use of it, and it’s telling me to be with you.” Taking the conflicted man’s hand, he guided it to his chest. 

“Can you feel it? It’s beating perfectly. It always is when I am close to you. I am where I am meant to be. It won’t fail me. _Please_ , trust me.” He breathed, begged him to understand. He needed this, more than anything he had ever wanted before. This moment felt life-changing. He did not know what he would do if Logan sent him back. Everything in his life had directed him to this very day, this occasion, here in this man’s arms. 

Logan looked tortured as his grip tightened on Patton. “I- I cannot allow you to be hurt because of me, I am responsible for your health.” He tried to explain. His voice caught in his throat. Turning Patton away – it was agony. 

“No.” The younger man stressed, leaning closer and looking into the doctor’s eyes seriously. “You are responsible for my happiness.”

Logan turned his head away, ashamed and defeated. He ought to let logic guide him, he was putting the kindest person he had ever met in jeopardy, but Patton was his own person. Should he not have the right to make his own decisions? It was his pathetic yearning to clutch him close and keep him safe talking, but even logic weighted in cruelly. If a heart was not found in time, even the most advanced medicine would only be able to prolong his suffering for so long. Should he not try to give him what he asked for?

Patton read his expression correctly, he always did. His little hummingbird keened in sympathy for his pain. He pulled the doctor close, hugging him with all his love. “don’t be sad for me! Everything will be alright. You have to believe.” 

His sweet voice was so full of conviction, Logan did, almost. 

Suddenly he could not seem to have Patton close enough. He pressed him against his chest, breathing him in, feeling his warmth and the curves and lines of his body, experiencing every breath he took with him, feel his heart beat against his chest. The little organ that had caused him so much fear and tears – it was beating strong and regularly, as if nothing could ever make it quit. Patton radiated certainty, radiated trust and love and happiness so strong, it caused the most remarkable effect – it chased away Logan’s fear, his anguish, his sadness. The next breath he took was light. He was not afraid anymore. Tonight, nothing but Patton mattered to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter contains explicit, sexual content which can be skipped id you scroll to the ++++++ marking.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton is determined to enjoy finally being in the arms of the man he has been dreaming about. Logan’s embrace makes him feel safe and happy and hungry for more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Explicit sexual content until the ++++++++++ marking. All of those after the sexy times, gosh: contemplation of death, crying, loss of consciousness, blood. (If anyone needs a chapter without the adult parts and the markings aren’t enough, drop me an ask) Also, don’t forget to use condoms in the real world, kids!

Logan’s hands were gentle as they cupped his love’s face, his kiss slow and unhurried despite his urges. Patton sighed against his lips, his smaller hands pawing at his back like a cat. He felt like he would purr if he could. Patiently, the doctor taught him how to kiss, focusing only on what made his beloved shiver in his arms and arch into his touch. His thumbs brushed over his soft cheeks, his lips following their path, kissing each and every freckle of that pretty face. He had to keep Patton still as a giggle made him squirm. Eager, he chased Logan’s lips, asking to be kissed deeper for the first time in his life. The more experienced man indulged him, coaxing his mouth open and teasing him briefly, innocently. 

Patton could not stop smiling, no matter how much it encumbered their kiss. His cheeks were aching in the best way. Butterflies had joined their powdery wings to his heart’s iridescent feathers. 

The muscles along Logan’s back moved under his palms, warm and alive and so appealing. His hands wandered further over his body, touching his chest, the rippling muscles of his abdomen, his hipbones, pulling himself closer. Heat flushed through his form as he felt their excited bodies pressed together. He was a little shy about it, like he was not sure if he was allowed. Logan seemed to share his feelings. Pulling away and ducking his head sheepishly, he appeared to battle the urge to apologize for wanting the man who was doing his best to cling to him like an enthusiastic limpet or an affectionate vine. His bashfulness was adorable! 

Patton had felt a little insecure about his hopes for the night. Even if everything went as well as he dreamed and Logan miraculously returned his feelings, if he actually wanted him enough to kiss him, to spent the night with him even, he still had no idea how sex actually worked. He knew what to do, of course, but apparently, it was something you had to know _how_ to do. He had cuddled plenty of men, but had never pleasured one. He wanted Logan to like what he did though! And what if Patton did not like it himself? Or if it did not feel as good as the innocent touches he had coaxed out of the attentive doctor? What if it hurt? He was sure he could handle some pain as long as they could be together, but some part of him still naively yearned for a perfect night. He knew the first time was often painful and awkward, that you had to grow comfortable and learn to enjoy yourself and your partner, but he might not have that much time to spare. He just wanted their night to be magical and tender and nice. 

His almost absentmindedly wandering hands were captured and held securely. 

“What is on your mind, Patton? There is no need to be anxious, I do not expect anything from you. Being allowed to kiss you is more than I ever dared to hope. Your presence with me is a gift I never expected to enjoy and I will cherish every moment, no matter how we choose to occupy our time.” Logan told him gently, his deep voice warm and kind. Once again, the former councilor found himself melting as he looked into those blue eyes. He felt safe. 

“I want … um, I want to do more though, if that is okay? I like kissing you and I would like to- to try-” He huffed, suddenly feeling awkward and shy. Saying what he wanted was _hard_! He ducked his head, hiding his face under the larger man’s chin. It was a nice place to be, enveloped in his scent, being able to press his cheek against the thin material covering his warm, firm chest. His awkwardness lightened as tiny paws curiously shuffled around in his carefully curled locks. Roman would not like hearing about this. 

Skilled hands buried in his hair, briefly squabbling with an enraged rat, before soothingly rubbing his scalp. Oh, that felt better than it had any right to! Patton relaxed even more, allowing the other to take more of his weight. He almost heard the gears turning in the smart brain of the man holding him. Knowing he needed time to consider all of the angels, he let him and instead got lost in the pleasurable sensation. Were it not for the needy warmth pooling and growing in his body, he would be content to stay like this for the rest of the night. 

He perked up when he felt Logan draw breath to speak, but found him swallowing instead, struggling to speak up. Was he possibly nervous about this as well? The thought gave Patton the much-needed boost of confidence. Taking care of people made him fearless and calm. He drew back, giving the man he cared for so much one of his patented adorable smiles. 

A laugh escaped the doctor. He had finally looked through Patton’s innocent facade, making the younger man’s smile brighten even more with amusement. Such a little lynx. 

“You- you can have anything you want from me, Patton. I would give you whatever you desire. Please know however that you should not feel obligated or that you are not required to make a decision now. Why don’t we just enjoy the moment and see how much you would like to experience with, um, with me.” He looked a little awed, the darling. More seriously he added, “You must, however, promise me some things.” 

A bit of steel had entered the doctor’s tone, stressing the fact that those points were not negotiable. Patton bit his lip as a wave of very nice feelings flooded him at the tone. He had always liked when Logan had sounded a little strict. It was a guilty pleasure of his and one of the reasons he was intentionally obstinate sometimes. The doctor’s eyes were drawn to the movement briefly, making Patton feel desirable and naughty. 

Apparently shaking himself, he gently grasped the rat and lowered it to the ground where it apparently roamed free before focusing on Patton attentively. 

“I do not want you to overexert yourself. If you are feeling faint or nauseous or in any way in pain, you _must_ inform me immediately. I trust you are aware of the risks of being here and exerting yourself physically. It would be wiser to return you to the hospital-” A sigh escaped the now clearly worried man as he saw Patton shake his head determinedly. No can do, he was not wasting more time there. 

“Alright. But you must promise to alert me to any and all uncomfortable or unusual sensations, no matter what we may be doing. That also includes any unpleasant sensations that might be caused by our … activities.” He flushed a little, clearly having trouble holding his gaze as he implied their possible actions. It made loving affection build in Patton’s little heart. He nodded obediently. 

“Additionally I want you to tell me to stop if you should ever feel uncomfortable, overwhelmed or unwilling to do or continue anything at all, alright? Your enjoyment is of the highest priority, do you understand?” 

Patton didn’t know why it was happening in precisely this moment, but he suddenly felt so touched, so loved that he had to blink back tears. He nodded, allowing the doctor to brush the moisture away. His brow was furrowed with anxiety. The poor thing was clearly alarmed and confused about the reason for his crying. 

“It’s fine, I’m just so happy.” He promised honestly, taking the hand that had explored him during examinations so often, and finally kissing it like he had wanted to for so long. 

They came together again as if something about the other was drawing them in. Patton nibbled at Logan’s lip, feeling playful. All of his nervousness had melted from him at his lover’s words. It would be alright, his favorite doctor would take good care of him. Despite the utter gentleness he was being touched with, he was starting to become a little impatient. His nerve-endings felt alive, making him shiver and shake with every touch. It was like his senses had suddenly come into focus. Everything felt so intense. He tugged on raven locks, pulled at the edge of a cotton shirt, complaining silently. 

Logan laughed against eager lips as he felt the demanding hands urging him on. It seemed Patton had found his confidence and was telling him to get on with it. Awash with happiness that did not allow for fear or caution, he grabbed the slighter man’s thighs and lifted him up. He deserved soft sheets under his back. 

Patton yelped as he suddenly lost touch with the floor, before the sound turned into a squeal. He had always loved being carried around by Roman, but this position had the added benefit of allowing him to wrap his thighs around trim hips and grind against the man holding him up sensually. He was rewarded with a low growl he could feel down to his bones. The light scrape of teeth on his neck made him gasp. 

Another yelp filled the room as he was suddenly disposed of, landing on his back on a wide bed and snowy-white covers. As the looked up at the attractive man crawling over him, all long lines and well defines muscle, he reverently thanked his body for saving him from any dizziness or weakness on this night. There was nothing he could not do tonight. 

Surging up eagerly, he grabbed two fist-fulls of t-shirt and tugged his partner down, making him land with an ‘oof’ that had both snickering. Logan rolled off of him so not to crush him under his weight and leaned in to kiss him again, lovingly and slowly. Patton’s fingers curled in the fabric he was clutching as his lover sucked on his bottom lip. So many lovely, new sensations! There was one he was especially eager for though. Breaking the kiss, he tugged Logan’s t-shirt over his head without warning, tangling his amused lover in the fabric helplessly.

“Get this off!” He demanded through a chuckle. “I can’t _bare_ to have you dressed!”

Logan groaned in fond exasperation, sitting up to actually fold the shirt and put it aside with his and then Patton’s glasses. Patton really should not be surprised. He enjoyed the adorable tidiness though. It reflected the carefully furnished and decorated room around him well. The walls were painted cream, the deep blue curtains half drawn over floor length, old-fashioned windows. The wooden furniture was covered in tidy stacks of books, healthy plants and models of spaceships from popular movies. Patton cheered in delight as he recognized the _Serenity_ from ‘Firefly’ as well as the _USS Enterprise_. How adorable! He would have never thought Logan would collect toys, this was the cutest thing ever! He was half off the bed to investigate gleefully when he was caught by a strong arm around his waist. His lover had flushed bright red once again. 

“There is no need to focus on my collectibles, I assure you, they are not all that interesting!” He hastened to convince Patton. The younger man was all the more interested now, but not averse to being distracted at all either. Seeing Logan without a shirt was a treat. He was slender, built like a runner and devastatingly gorgeous. Patton still yearned to feed him though. 

Spurred on by all of that delectable skin, he did not want to fall behind. Feeling pretty and wanting to enjoy the feeling, he turned, presenting his back to Logan to encourage him to undress him. He heard the man’s breathing speed up and wanted out of his clothes even more. Though not overly confident in his body, he was starting to believe his lover would enjoy it. 

Gentle fingertips brushed up his spine, spreading goosebumps over the vulnerable skin, before he felt a tug on the strings of the bow holding his shirt close to his body. Anticipation made him shake as he raised his arms and felt the protective layer stripped from him. 

Logan coaxed him down on his stomach, kissing and exploring every inch of exposed skin, his breath warm and intimate on his back. Patton clutched tighter at the covers, squirming with rising need. He was surprised to find his breath coming out in panting gasps as large hands ran down from his shoulders over his hips to the curve of his butt. 

“Is this alright?” Logan asked. His voice was caring, concerned. His little lover arched up impatiently, wanting more. His body was tingling all over. It was so intense, he had not known it could feel like this. 

“ _Yes_!” He cried, growing impatient as the doctor was waiting for verbal consent. He felt a huff of hot air right over the dip of his lower back, a laugh. His answering smile was hidden in the pillow he was clutching. 

Upon the request of his eagerly wiggling hips, his trousers were eased over his body, leaving him almost naked. Logan settled over his hips and took his time running his hands all over the body under him until Patton was bucking and keening under him, tempting him terribly. The young man was the most beautiful creature he had ever had beneath him and he wanted him badly. He wished he could draw this out for hours, hold him down and tease him until he begged and pleaded, but he worried about overexerting his little love. Carefully, he turned him around, pushing his shoulder blades into the mattress and kissing him deeply. His fingers teased sensitive nipples, circling and pinching them slightly. Patton arched under him, pushing himself close. He was hard to resist, made passion rise up in him hotly. He was never quiet, making small, almost innocent noises all the time. It made Logan itch to make him louder, make him cry and scream and scrabble at his back as he pleasured him. 

Instead, he ignored his painfully encased need and touched Patton’s length through his underwear for the first time. His lover cried out under him, twitching and clutching his shoulders hard. He was so responsive. 

Taking his time, Logan rubbed and palmed him until Patton was gasping into the kiss, let him grow frantic. The cupped a hand over his throat, letting him feel his hold and covertly pressing his fingertips to his pulse point, just to be certain. His heart beat steadily and powerfully. It seemed to funnel strength right into him, encouraging him. He fondled Patton harder, recognizing how much he enjoyed the firmer grip on his intimate area. Slender fingers dug into his shoulders in response. His hips were stuttering, bucking uncontrollably. 

Suddenly, Patton surprised him by pushing at him even as his hips begged for contact. Logan required a second to understand the conflicting signals, before yanking his hands back, worriedly hovering over Patton. He looked completely wrecked, flushed, sweaty and disheveled. He was exquisite. 

“Did I hurt you?” Logan rasped worriedly. His voice was rougher than expected. Patton shook his head, trying to control his need. 

“No, I- I don’t want it to be over yet! I want to come with you, close to you. I want- I want you to take me.” Pleadingly, he looked up at Logan through his lashes, so pretty. “Please.”

The older man’s brain stumbled over the request briefly, short-circuiting as it conjured the image. Just two hours ago he had tried hard to convince himself that he needed to stay away from Patton, that he could not have him, and now he was squirming under him, begging to be taken. He ran a hand over his face, trying to pull himself together, trying not to pounce and grab and drive Patton’s hips into the mattress with his thrusts. Not yet. 

“Are you certain? There are many ways I can please you. I would be happy to.” He promised. A yelp escaped him as he was suddenly grabbed as if he were attacked by an enthusiastic octopus, arms and legs wrapping around him, a smile on the lips kissing him. 

“You are so sweet to me! Of course, I’m sure! I want to know what it feels like to be as close as possible.” He exclaimed, pecking his skillful lover’s cheek. Those pants needed to go though, he wanted to see everything. Eagerly, he pulled on the fabric, briefly confusing the other with his suddenly wandering hands. He was indulged though. 

Patton pulled his underwear off as well, all traces of shyness gone in the overwhelming comfort he was enveloped in. He would have never thought he would feel so at home, naked in a man’s arms. The intimacy was incredible, so loving and arousing. He felt cherished and driven half crazy at the same time. And so impatient! 

Logan, bless him, seemed to feel his urgency and kissed him and steadied him at the same time. He lifted his hips gently, sliding a pillow under them to make him more comfortable, before he reached over to his bedside table and coaxed Patton’s thighs apart wide with his other hand. Oh, this position made him flush a little after all, it was so open and exposed. The sensation added to his excitement though. Using a leg to tug around his lover, he urged him on. Stretching his body deliciously helped motivate him, he learned. The way Logan hurried to fulfill his wishes made him feel confident and good about himself. Was the first time not supposed to be uncomfortable? This was far from it, he was in the arms of the right man after all. 

He twitched as slick fingers touched his opening, his most intimate place. Logan pressed the pads of his fingers against him slightly, massaging and rubbing, letting him feel him there, and looked at Patton for confirmation once more. His blue eyes were so loving. They found only eagerness and need. He pushed the first finger in. 

The younger man gasped upon being penetrated. The sensation was intense, intimate. He was very tight, and very sensitive. He felt claimed and connected as he was fingered slowly. Laying back and breathing through the arousing, stretching sensation, he allowed his lover to push into him at his leisure, let him take over and push deeper, rotate his fingers and make him take more. Patton’s hips were rolling lazily, almost drunkenly. He arched and whimpered and squeaked at being thrust into harder. That felt good! Logan appeared to enjoy fingering him too. He experimented with different pressures and speeds, more fingers, massaging him tenderly or pushing in firmly. It was hypnotic to see Patton like this, reduced to reacting to the feelings he showered him with, trusting him to pleasure him. 

Finally, through the haze of tingling, all-consuming lust, Patton felt his lover’s fingers withdraw. He had just enough mental capacity left to prevent the question he knew his considerate lover was about to ask. “Yes, c’mere!” He muttered, pulling Logan in and kissing him. He poured all of his love and gratefulness into the kiss. This was the most perfect moment of his life. 

Pressure at his opening made him breathe in sharply. Logan kissed him deeper, intertwining their hands and pressing them into the mattress on either side of his head, immobilizing him as much as he was reassuring him, and that was a position Patton was enjoying very much indeed. Heat and lust made him moan into the kiss. The pressure intensified, turning to slight pain as he was breached. Somehow, in his state of utter bliss, the ache of being opened wide around Logan’s cock sent a jolt of pleasure through him. He arched his hips slightly as he was being filled more and more, more than he had thought he could take. A keen escaped him at the depth, his thighs quivering, his brow furrowed from the stretch and the lust that made his whole body weak. 

Logan stilled, cupping Patton’s face and looking at him as if he were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. The younger man was gratified to see how deeply he was affected. His muscles trembled with the effort of holding himself back. They wrapped their arms around each other, trying to be as close as possible, trying to hold onto the moment. They did not need to speak to know what the other was feeling. 

Logan rolled his hips sensually, leisurely fucking into his lover and making him fall apart slowly underneath him. The pressure, the thrusts, they made Patton keen and writhe in little time, made him try to get closer, get more. He lost control of the noises that escaped him quickly. The alien sensation of being opened soon added to his unraveling. Logan looked at him the whole time, trying to commit the sight of him shaking and whimpering his name to memory so he could take it with him, carry it safely in his heart till the end of his days. 

Patton came with a cry, quivering through an intense orgasm that left him utterly weak. Logan fucked him through it, drawing the feeling out, before he came in the younger man with a stifled roar. It was a long time before either of them moved from their intertwined position. 

He was very gentle with Patton afterwards, cleaning him up and taking his pulse, making him drink water and tucking him into his arms in a nest of pillows. The younger man smiled sleepily at the slightly awkward care be was blessed with. His muscles felt like jelly, but he felt good. In fact, he could not remember feeling happier. The sun dipped behind the horizon as they kissed. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

 

Warmth enveloped Patton as he lay awake, bathed in starlight streaming through the partially open curtain. Logan’s arm was securely wrapped around him, holding his tenderly against his body he had curled around the younger man’s back, even in sleep. He was pliant next to his former patient, finally, blissfully relaxed. 

Burying his face in the pillow, Patton tried to breathe evenly, tried not to love too much, tried desperately to muffle his crying. The night had been utterly perfect, more so than even his dreamy, optimistic mind could have come up with. Having experienced the reality of being in Logan’s arms made the certainty he had to face even more agonizing. The certainty that he was running out of time. His heart stuttered in his chest, making fear shoot through his slight body like ice. He held his breath to suppress a sob, held it until his lungs burned. 

He showed everyone nothing but happiness, tried to make them think he was no regrets, he believed everything would be alright, that he was not afraid, but he was! He was so afraid his chest cramped and his breath turned to painful gasps. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop the tears from falling to his swollen face would not give him away in the morning. He had become very good at hiding his terror. There was no need to share his suffering with those who did not deserve it, no matter how much he yearned, every night, to wake somebody and crawl into their arms, to beg them to chase away the demons and tell him everything would be alright. At night, when nobody was watching, his strength gave out and he succumbed to his regrets and fears and his desperate wish for _more time_. He did not want to die. He was not ready! He had so much left to do, so many things he had missed, so _many_ regrets.

Yes, he had dared to confront Logan about his feelings, had taken charge and convinced him not to waste the little time they had felt, so they could both live life to the fullest, and it had been beautiful. Being with Logan had been the greatest gift anyone had ever given him. He had made him feel whole. But now, bitter, painful doubts crept into his mind. He moved silently, clasped a hand over his mouth to muffle a sob that escaped despite his caution, despite the practice he had at keeping his emotions silent and his smile fixed immovably on his face. Part of him wanted Logan to wake up and hold him, kiss him, reassure him that he would not have to die, he did not have to be so _afraid_ , that he would get to be with him, built a family with Virgil and Roman and take up his beloved job again, adopt a cat and a puppy and a _child_ and grow old together, but he must not. Logan could never see his misery. The least he could do was make him think he had died happy, that he had done all he could, so he could move on. There was no future with Patton, despite how badly he wanted to give this kind, loving man a life full of love and tenderness. Instead, he had selfishly robbed him of his last defense – the distance and the walls he had built between himself and Patton, and Patton’s impending death. During the day, when it was easier to imagine things would be alright, to delude himself while people were with him, he had believed he was doing something good, he was giving him love. Now, in the dark of night, with Logan slumbering behind him, loving and vulnerable, he realized the truth. He had dragged him down with him. Involved him in his death and might destroy him forever. How could he not have seen it?! Logan was gentle and breakable, he would not take the memory of their love and gain strength from it, he would focus on his loss and it would crush him.

Unable to prevent his heaving sob, Patton smothered himself in the clean-smelling pillow, his face a grimace of agony. He was afraid. 

Logan slept on, unaware.

***

The next day brought a new sunrise and a slow smile from the man he loved, the man that loved him, and the strength to smile through the pain once again. Logan pulled him close, holding him with such love and reverence, that some of the bitter fear knotting his chest into painful cramps eased, chased away by tenderness. Patton breathed in the smell of the man who had made love to him for the first time, losing himself in him. Incredibly, the longer he focused on him, the more he forgot the future. Logan filled every crevice of his mind, his chest, his heart. It soared. 

They spent the most beautiful weekend together. Logan washed his hair with loving hands, looked at him with awe, dressed him in his clothes, kissed him like he was the most delicate thing he had ever touched. He fulfilled all of Patton’s wishes. They spent the day in the park with Roman and Virgil, ate cotton candy and watched their friends bicker and hold hands by turns. Patton and his creative friend spent the evening trying to create little scrubs for the adorable rat (whose origin Roman was kept firmly in the dark about) while their boyfriends cooked and laughed about their antics, and while Virgil and Roman fell asleep on the couch, Logan took Patton in his arms and caressed and kissed him until he melted in his embrace. The day had been complete and utter perfection. It had felt like a gift. And it had not been Logan’s last. This night, Patton sank into his arms, tired and satisfied, and slept till the sun brightened the room once again. 

The next day brought a grumpy Roman, who complained about the kink in his neck and his lack of a proper shower, did they not know how dirty the human body was?! Until Virgil wandered out of said shower clad in only a thin robe which was slipping off one slender shoulder, smirking at him. 

After Roman used half of Logan’s antibacterial soap, they went shopping for baking supplies so Patton could enjoy Logan’s large, well-equipped kitchen and feed his lovely family. He was filled with happiness as he stirred the batter for his favorite red velvet cake to create cute, pink frosted cupcakes he could decorate for each of them. Roman was singing in the living-room, making Virgil snort at him. Logan was cleaning up after them, trying to look intimidating but failing by a mile. 

Having two more people in his space caused a lot more mess and unrest than he had expected. Roman had somehow managed to bring enough beauty products in his hand-bag to clutter his whole bathroom, and that was apparently only his emergency supply. Virgil was constantly trying to suppress a smile though. He looked more relaxed than he had ever seen him before. Knowing he was taken care of made Logan feel light. His whole flat was filled with life and cheer and he it was far better than he had ever dreamed. 

A crash cut through the silence like a knife. _Patton_. 

Ice flooded Logan’s veins. 

He was sprawled on the floor, limp, lifeless. Glass shards littered the floor, cutting into his soft hands where he had tried to break his fall before darkness pulled him under. The scarlet stains of his blood mixed with the batter he had been mixing for them. They had run out of time.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Hospitals, off screen minor character death

Murky darkness engulfed him. Every breath hurt. A dull stabbing sensation made him gasp and curl around his poor chest. It felt like someone had taken a crowbar to it and had cracked his ribs open to rip out his heart. 

Of course, that was what happened. Essentially. Remy kept telling him he had done no such barbaric thing, he should ‘stop spreading filthy lies, gurl’, but with the annoying pains he had to deal with, Patton for once preferred the dramatic alternative Roman had painted for him. Who would have thought having major heart surgery would _hurt_?

Patton sighed as the medication once again took effect, spreading a pleasant numbness through his veins. His giddiness stayed though, keeping him awake and smiling like a loon despite his tiredness, as well as the overwhelming, impossible feeling of _relief_. He was weak and hurting and confined to a hospital bed _again_ , but he was _alive_. He was going to live. 

He did not remember collapsing, but guessed it must have been bad. He had woken up to a very unpleasant, burning sensation and a very harassed and messy looking family. Roman had been in a right state, looking like he had had to fight a pack of wolves to get to the hair he was parked in, his hair unstyled and sticking up in the front where he had kept running his hands through it. Patton had never seen him in rumpled clothes, but these were even strained with coffee which undoubtedly belonged to his favorite nurse who was still clutching a cup in shaking hands like his life depended on not dropping it. He had looked pitifully pale. The young patient remembered thinking guiltily that it gave him a bit of a cute, raccoonish look. 

Logan had looked the worst of all though. Sitting on his other side and holding his bandaged hand like it was made of cracked glass, he appeared completely overwhelmed. His face was ashen, disbelieve written all over it. He had looked ready to collapse. Joy had come later. Right now, the poor man was so overcome with stress and emotion, he burst into tears. 

Patton had apparently been hooked to machines barely keeping him alive for three days, fighting not to slip away. Logan had held onto him with the stubbornness of someone clutching the cut hands of the person he loved more than life itself. He had roared at anyone who had tried to make him see reason as Patton had been slipping away from him. The morning of the third day, a heart had turned up quite like a miracle. 

Remy had ordered the surgery even while he had been on the phone with the emergency delivery. His sass had apparently nipped any question about whether a stronger patient should get the heart instead of Patton in the bud. _No one_ spoke up against Remy. Roman tearfully recounted the event, a starstruck look in his eyes, and informed Patton that the surgeon was apparently still angrily ranting about ‘the nerve of those cretins, a serious fricking outrage!’

His new heart had joined him without a fuzz, comfortably nestling itself into his chest and beating strong and safely. It was a good heart, Patton could tell. It leaped with him with as much energy as his little hummingbird would have had as Logan finally smiled through the tears. It was affectionate and enthusiastic and felt _right_ , like it had been waiting for him. It would experience many, beautiful things with him. Things he had believed impossible before he had fallen. 

Patton did not know how to express the feeling that arose at all the possibilities that lay ahead of him. It was almost impossible to believe, but it was true. He had made it. He had been saved. He would get to hug his kiddo again, cuddle Roman and kiss Logan. He would be allowed to leave the hospital with him – leave it behind! He could have a job and help people and go to an amusement park and to the playground and have a pet to join Nicodemus and build a life with a future and have a family. He could live. He could grow old. He would see what Logan looked like with laugh lines and gray hair over his temples. 

His chest filled with love and gratefulness so great, only a healthy, loving heart like his new one could hope to contain it. He looked down at the file of the young man the heart had belonged to. The man who had saved him.

_Thank you, Thomas._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was it. I worked really hard to post it in time for the deadline and I'm anxious for wether you guys enjoyed it, so I'd be super happy about any comments you might like to leave me!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks a million times to my beta Bangthekobrakid on Tumblr! See you in the next chapter, guys gals and non-binary pals!


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